Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 153: what you’re looking at

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

GRAFT. He vanished, but hardly had the door closed when it reopened sufficiently to allow the red head once more to appear. ‘““ Say!” grinned this head, in a husky and confidential whisper that carried farther than some shouts would have done. “ Say! Dem guys won’t be here for ten minutes yet. You'll have dat much time by yer lonesomes, anyhow.” : Again the head vanished, this time permanently. Jack glanced at Peggy, to find, much to his surprise, that though her cheeks were crimson with blushes, she was laughing. “Do you know,” she said, turning to Jack, “I kind of like that boy. He’s a good kid!” CHAPTER XXX. CONSEQUENCES. J neve WILSON was the first of the newcomers, of whose advent the red- headed office boy had given warning, to arrive. He came alone, sidling into the door and looking into the faces of the two occupants, Jack and Peggy, with an expres- sion on his face that might have been that of an ill-treated dog hoping for the best, but fearing another brickbat, or more kicks. Jimmy’s shirt, originally of startling hues, and his trousers and waistcoat of loud plaid, were filthy beyond description. He had no coat. His face was pale, his eyes red. In one hand he held a handkerchief, no cleaner than the remainder of his clothing, wadded up in a damp ball. His utter misery would have aroused sympathy on the part of al- most any one, and these two young people, especially at this time, were far from being hard-hearted. Besides, Peggy had known the lad all her life. Both started forward in greeting. “Why, Jimmy,” cried the girl, “ we’ve been looking for you everywhere! We had no idea where you were.” “T know, Miss Peggy,” answered Jimmy, his face hardening vindictively. ‘‘ They tol’ me all about it, down there to the jail. And I told ’em all I knowed, an’ swore to it. And I hope it sends this Horton guy to— say, Miss Peggy, d’yuh know they never 779 told me—that I never knowed a word about her—till now?” “Her?” repeated Jack, for a moment puzzled. ‘ You mean—” ‘“{ mean ma—me mother. They kep’ me alone—by myself—so I didn’t know nothin’ outside er that five-by-six rathole. They wanted me to swear I seen Master Phil fire the shot what killed Spike Creach. They’d cooked up a whole yarn, and writ it down. ‘They wanted me to swear to it— to frame Master Phil. They guessed that it was me what had fired that shot. They told me that if I didn’t swear it on some- body else, I’d go to the chair meself.”’ “Who is ‘ they?’ ” asked Jack. “Dunning. Horton. It was Horton who mostly talked with me. I guess Dun- ning wanted to slide out from under if there should be a comeback, an’ maybe they thought I’d fall for a mayor quicker’n I would fer a jitney-graftin’ shyster like Dun- ning. Anyway ‘twas Horton talked to me. He gimme these clo’es, an’ some money. I didn’t know—not then—that Master Phil had been pinched for the shootin’. As soon’s I hear, I beat it up to ol’ Peter’s shanty with a note I’d written. But Peter’s dump caught fire, and I lost me coat tryin’ to put it out. The note got burned up, I s’pose, and I hadn’t no chance to write an- other.” “You hadn’t!” exclaimed Peggy. “ Why didn’t you?” * Why didn’t I!” echoed Jimmy. “ ’Cause they pinched me—pinched me for swipin’ the clo’es an’ the money what Horton, he gives me! They run me into the cooler, where I stay ever since. But the note wouldn’t ha’ done no good, the lawyers tells me. I say in it that Master Phil didn’t fire that shot, but I wasn’t sayin’ who did fire it—not then.” “ ‘Then you knew who did fire that shot?” asked Jack, eagerly. “Yes,” answered Jimmy, soberly. ‘“ Sure I know. I seen her do it. It was ma.” “Your mother!” cried Jack, aghast. “Not Libby!” added Peggy, doubtful of her own ears. “ It couldn’t be Libby!” “Yes,” repeated Jimmy. “It was her, all right. It was for me she done it. She thinks I was gettin’ into a bad way—and I Gomichbooks (C@