Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 118: what you’re looking at

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

108 folks around. Thought I’d come when there wasn’t so many.” “You’ve struck it just right,’ smiled Cameron. ‘I’m here alone. If you’ve got time Vl] show you around,” Calamity got up, seeming to unfold like a jackknife. He sighed deeply, his face lengthened lugubriously as he pressed a hand to his back, just above the hips. ‘Get a twinge there once in a while,” he explained. ‘“‘ Lumbago, likely. Always knowed I’d get it. My dad had it. Runs in the family. Mostly trouble does run in a family. But nothin’ else—like money or brains or health. Them things sort of get side-tracked somewheres, A man can’t anticipate them.” “The world looks very bright to you— doesn’t it, Calamity?” ‘“‘ Not so awful bright,” denied the other. “T’ve quit expectin’ it to. A man’s a fool to get to expectin’ good things to happen. They never do. Take my uncle. Lafe, his name was. Well, he used to say that bet- ter days was a comin’. An’ him all bent up with rheumatiz. He never got no better —he ought to have resigned himself to the worst.” | Calamity followed Cameron into the growing darkness. They stood for some time near the black bulk of a huge building, under construction. Cameron explained that when completed the structure was to be used as a power house. “You ain’t had no labor troubles here yet, eh?” asked Calamity. “No. We do not anticipate any. Our men are satisfied.” ‘“Nobody’s been killed on the work?” ‘““ Nobody has been killed.” “Nobody hurt?” “Not a man.” ‘No trouble of any kind?” “Not any.” Calamity sighed. “J sort of don’t understand it,” he said, disappointment in his voice. “ On jobs like this there’s usually somebody hurt or killed or there’s strikes an’ such. You say there’s nothin’ like that happened?” ‘“ Not a thing like that.” “ Well, I don’t understand it. You got 2 charm or somethin’ around you?” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. ‘“No charms, Calamity.” Calamity shook his head and gazed about him. ‘* Let’s walk over there by that gorge— where you’ve been buildin’ the dam,” he said. “I’ve heard folks say that if a man would fall offen there he’d sure get smashed up some. Mebbe there’s a place there where it might happen.” Cameron led the way to a point about a quarter of a mile distant, to a hilltop from where they could dimly discern the outlines of the dam. Work had progressed rapidly, but the darkness had grown so dense fhat Cameron found it difficult to point out certain salient features. Besides, Calamity did not appear to be listening to Cameron; he was casting glances here and there as though seeking out other objects of interest. “Not a darned bit of trouble,” he re- marked, interrupting Cameron. “ Things has been runnin’ mighty smooth for you.” “ Pretty smoothly,” Cameron replied. “Right from the first,” Calamity con- tinued. ‘ The first night you was here you made a monkey of Strong. Nothin’ hap- pened. ‘The very next day Virginia Ballan- tine shot a hole through your hat. That was after you’d kept Dave Jenkins from shootin’ Ballantine.” ‘“ Calamity,” Cameron said, “how do you know Virginia put a bullet through my hat?” “T was watchin’ you from the brush,” shamelessly replied Calamity. ‘““ H-m.” Cameron looked grimly at Ca- lamity. “Did you overhear anything that was said that day, Calamity?” “Sure. I was pretty close.” “ Calamity,” said Cameron, “ it seems to me that you hear too much.” “Ears is made to be used, ain’t they? Well, I’ve used mine. An’ I’ve seen things. You keep interruptin®’ me. I was tellin’ you about how close you’ve come to trou- ble—an’ never got it. It’s sure astonishin’! “The same day that Virginia put a hole through your hat you run into old Ballan- tine on the hotel veranda. I thought there would be trouble. There wasn’t. You knocked Strong down an’ took his gun Lt CORnMICLOOKS.ECO