Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 160: what you’re looking at

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

150 “You'll be a hellofasight sorrier you opened your trap at me, if you don’t beat it while I’m in a good humor,” the chief yelled—and they seemed to decide he was probably right. ‘““ Four Eyes, there’s two of the dirtiest coyotes that ever hit the Mexican border,” the chief claimed. ‘“ They’re bad actors, take it from me. They’ve been threatening me for ten years—but I’ve managed to keep them locked up most of the time. They’re the birds that tried to blackjack me over in Juarez last year, if you remember. What can I do for you—anything in particular?” “[ want to introduce you to Ed Al- wards,” I explained. “ Mr. Alwards is one of the leading prize fight managers, chief, and I’d—” ‘“ Yes, I met him this morning,” the chief snapped and wheeled around to Calamity Al. “ Didn’t I tell you I’d jug you lf you ever came whining around here again?” he demanded, and then cut loose with the best five minutes of cussing I’d ever heard. The chief had some command of the En- glish language. He’d learned the most of it in a cow camp over in the Panhandle and then had joined Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Riders as a sort of finishing school. ‘‘ Now get this,” he added after he had satisfied himself that he had made a proper impression—” I’m cleaning up this town of thugs and the like—and that includes prize fighters. I’m going to make the burg too hot for them to stay in—never did have any use for ’em anyhow. ‘Those two jailbirds that just left are a fair example and— don’t argue with me!” he snapped as Ca- lamity Al tried to get in a word. “As long as I’m chief of police here, prize fight- ers is going to have a mighty hard row to hoe.” Calamity Al and I digested this. “ But, chief,” I remonstrated, “ the li- cense has been issued for this card, and it seems that through some misunderstanding one of the policemen happened to pick up Ol’ Murph, that’s going to box the curtain raiser, and threw him in jail. It seems he hadn’t done anything in particular, and If ‘was wondering if—” “‘Hadn’t done anything! Hungarian hell! Why, he’s plumb nuts and came near ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. ruining my police force! He was running around town with only a pair of drawers on and he got into trouble down at a restau- rant and nearly killed a couple Greeks, and then when Pat Dugan went into arrest him he took Pat’s club away from him and— and— Hell, no! Not after him making laughing stock out of the police force— of course I won’t let him out. ‘“He’s a tough customer and a vag be- sides, an’ it’s the chain gang for him. [ll teach these prize fighters they can’t come in here and run this town—not as long as Bill Smith’s chief of police. And that’s final!” ‘“‘ All right, chief,” I said as Calamity Al and I started to leave—‘‘ I’m sorry you couldn’t strech a point though—ah—by the * way—lI was talking to the telegraph oper- ator over at the office and he said the new rule about no one being allowed in the telegraph booth while he takes the world Series report next week’ wasn’t intended to apply to you and the mayor and some of the other city hall fans that could be relied on not to tip off the plays before they are flashed on the electric board. So come over—we'll save room for you.” I slammed the door behind us. ‘“* Chief of police wants you to call him,” the city editor said when I got back to the office. ‘“ Hello—that you, Four Eyes?” the chief asked after I got the connection. “I’ve just been considering that case,” he added, “and after investigating it, I guess maybe it isn’t as bad as I thought. I’m letting this Ol’ Murph out of jail and turning him over to you. I hope to the Lord no more of these fighting thugs are friends of yours —’cause I’m sure going to make this town hot for ’em.” “ Thanks, chief,” I said, “ but you'll find some time that they aren’t as bad a lot of boys as you figure them.” ** Hell they aren’t!” he shot back. “ But say, Four Eyes, who’s pitching for the Giants to-day?” IT. ‘“‘ TuHaT there chief flat-foot is sure some down on pugs,” Ol’ Murph claimed as he slouched into my sport sanctum and tried CORNICLOOKS.CO