Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 124, No. 3 — page 62: what you’re looking at

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

436 lighted his pipe. Ray, sighing noisily, rolled a brown-paper cigarette. Newell did not know quite how to begin. What he had to say was very important, more important than any words he had ever exchanged with his friend. And it was of such a nature that the wrong words would mar its meaning. | He continued to puff at his pipe long after it was cold. Finally he brought from his pocket a bulging roll of bills and care- fully separated two hundred and fifty dol- lars which he handed to his chum. Ray said gruffly, ‘“‘ What’s this?’’ “ For your share of the Tin Lizzie.” “ Buying me out?” “ Uhuh.” ; “Say, looky here, Wally, you ain’t sore?” “Me sorer “You're dead certain?”’ / “ You bet I am, old-timer. Why, Bruce, she’s a mighty fine little girl, that Fancy Burke, and I’d rather you got her than all the Tin Lizzies in the world. Only thing ’t would make me sore now ’d be seein’ you lose your nerve. You go in and grab that girl. Gettin’ married ’s the best thing can happen to a man like you, Bruce, if he gets a good woman.” There was a frightened look in Ray’s blue eyes. “My gosh, Wally, you don't suppose she’d—” «Why, of course she -would Newell was scornfully positive. “She’d jump at the chance. Why, you’d ought to consider the thing as sure as done, a fellow like you! Would she? Huh!” - After some hesitation Ray asked: “ Wal- ly, did you figure on lighting out right off?” “No need my sticking around here. Can’t do any good.” Newell sucked hard at his dead pipe. © : : “You give me a powerful lot of encour- agement, Wally.” “Vou don’t need encouragement. got a cinch.” — “ But I kind of wish you’d stick round and tell me so every now ’n’ then. If you ain’t in a sweat to be off—” “ Why, sure, I will! Just as long as I’m any use to you,” Wally Newell declared briskly. 1»? You ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Ray answered him with a grateful look. That was all they said about it, and it set- tled the matter. It settled several impor- tant questions bétween them in a manner - worthy their friendship. Both knew they had come to a parting, and each was glad they could part like this—good friends. Wally Newell followed his chum back toward the hotel with a strange, heavy re- luctance, as if he were turning back from” his newly made grave. With the surprise of a discovery he decided he was getting old. The sparkle was gone from the sun- light, and the tang from the salt air. It was the first day he could remember out of thirty-five years when th® thought of age had occurred to him. He was conscious of walking more”slowly, soberly, as if he car- ried a burden all these years and suddenly realized it. V. THE dance was on a Saturday night, and two days intervened—days which Wally Newell spent in the background of affairs, watching his friend’s earnest courtship of Fancy Burke. Wally kept himself always in easy call, and he advised earnestly with Bruce Ray as to whether a red or yellow cravat was more snappy for gent’s evening wear; whether it was better to carry the - handkerchief in one’s coat cuff, as Sid Wil- — cox did, or let a corner of it protrude from the breast pocket in the manner of more conservative up-to-date dressers. He even went so far as to help Bruce practise dance steps, and the two of them, their shoes re- moved, could have been seen at late hours in Bruce’s room, locked in affectionate em- brace, teetering’ and shuffling with sober, anxious faces, back and forward, sweating copiously, laboring heroically to master the intricacies of the shimmy. The courtship seemed to progress sur- prisingly well. Fancy Burke showed a no- table preference for the big logger that kept Bruce in a state of bewildered excite- ment. Honest John gave signs of approv- al, and even went so far as to compliment his daughter on finally exhibiting a few ounces of common, hog sense in her selec: tion of a man. Even Wally was happy in his friend’s we fl ecomnilelaoolks eo a @ o. | e 6