Argosy All-Story Weekly, January 21, 1922 — page 18: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

8 ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. my spirit might have wanted to do, I didn’t have strength enough to do much more than close my fist. But the job was the only one in sight, and I wanted it. I had two possessions outside of what I stood in; meaning my rags, a broken comb, and a mangy tooth-brush. These were the red godling and the gun that En Sue had given me. The Oriental joss had not served me well of late. Perhaps he had stayed on the job until he was disgusted with my Occidental instability. I had forgotten the name of En Sue’s father. I might have located him, but I didn’t feel like begging. I had an idea that En Sue might have writ- ten home about me, long since, and I knew the Chinaman’s generous ideas of gratitude, but I could not present myself as a sup- pliant scarecrow. There had been times when the godling had served me, or so I fancied. As mascot in certain games of cards it had bucked up my nerve—superstition is a funny thing—and got me out of many messes with a turn of the cards. I wanted to hang on to it for friendship’s sake. It was still in the little box of lacquer with the verse. How valuable it was as a pledge I could not tell. When I got back Verez was waiting for me. My room was wanted. ‘““If you come around to-morrow eve- ning,” said the mongrel, ‘““I may have a proposition to make to you.” I knew what he was after as he sized me up. He figured that in twenty-four hours I would bé ready for anything, provided there was a meal in sight and a drink thrown in. I went out with the joss in my trouser’s pocket, fingering it, the gun gripped in my other hand, tucked in the side pocket of my coat, and made my way to Lung Hi. I wouldn’t talk with him in the shop of his stinking bazaar. . He didn’t cater openly to the tourist trade, and his display was a blind. But he was wealthy with what transpired in his back room. Was there a patch of poppies in a hidden valley some- where, its juice came through to Lung Hi. Did some coolie in the jade or ruby mines get away with loot from Burmah, Lung Hi bought it. Stolen goods are bought the cheapest, and Lung Hi had any Hebrew fence of lower Manhattan ranked like an amateur. But my late companions, who had brought me into disrepute, had covered him, and he knew me as of them, if not with them. I believed that he would treat me tolerably well on a loan. Lung Hi was wrinkled all over his face, save his eyelids. Those well-used curtains to a Chinaman’s soul are always unmarked by time—they shut down over the eyes like curved shutters of steel over a display of gems. But when I showed him the gun I saw them quiver. He did not answer any questions—merely broke the gun and spilled the cartridges into his clawlike hand, sweeping them into a drawer. “You like sell—or you come back, maybe?”’ “ T'll come back, Lung Hi. That was a gift to me.” ** All light. How much you wantee?” By this time I had some idea of the values of certain things. I knew the handle was real jade and the carvings excellent. The gun itself was worth twenty-five dol- lars; and that was the amount I asked, imagining -he would offer me half. That would go a long way in Shanghai those days. A clean suit of whites, a bed, two meals, a razor, and some blades, and then to see Hawkins. I was not troubling about paying Verez. There had been nights when he had chiseled me out of many a dollar in change and overcharge, before my friends forgot to hand kumshaw to a certain dis- gruntled official. Lung Hi grunted and waddled over to his safe. When he came back he counted out five Bank of China notes for twenty dollars each—gold. I could have sworn I saw a twinkle in his eyes as I sat and looked at them, gaping like a gurnard. “You pletty nice young fellow, I think,” he said. “ Only you damn fool. Bimeby, maybe, betteh luck. Mo’ sense you get. I keep one year.” Then the beneficent old heathen trotted. out some samshu and clapped his hands for a boy, who brought from some mysterious kitchen in the rear a bowl of savory chow- yuck and a dish of rice with each grain comiclboooks C©