Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

3) ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. ‘Suspect ’s much. Will introduce you. I’ve no time to waste. Dig!” te Dig?” “ Yes—dig!” “Dig what?” “Dig down!” threatened he. ‘“ Shell out—give up—pass over your valuables.” “Well, well,” gasped Rollin, “am I being robbed—again?”’ ‘“ Again—heh?” “Just robbed—thoroughly—this A.M.” “Tf you’ve got anythin’ left worth takin’, pass it out.” ‘““ Well, I knew that sooner or later you holdup men would have to work in two shifts.” The drover’s heavy eyebrows fluttered up and down menacingly. He succeeded in looking very frightful and scary, but all was lost on Rollin, too tired to note these little details. “ ‘You don’t seem to use much tact—” “ Tacks—a paper 0’ ’em!” “So that explains the puncture?” smiled Rollin. : ‘“‘ Explains the one in your tire, but not th’ ones you'll get in your skin if you don’t hand over that sparkler.” Had this happened a year before Rollin would have laughed off the highway rob- bery as a good joke. But now it was dif- ferent. The few dollars he had in his pocket, the few valuable things he had to sell, represented his entire fortune, and quite naturally he was loath to part with them. His courage was greater than his discretion as he reached for a large wrench that lay on the floor of his car as the only weapon at hand. Not until then did Rollin realize that the burly ruffian carried a long whip familiarly known as a “mule skinner.” The whip cracked like a pistol and the leather tip bit through Rollin’s trousers, through his ten- der skin and seemed to explode right among the nerve centers of his left leg. ‘None o’ that!” commanded the high- wayman as Rollin straightened up with a spasmodic jerk and smothered a scream of pain. ‘“ Lively now!” The long whip cracked within an inch of Rollin’s nose. “Hand over that sparkler!” The whip touched him on the arm like a burning flame. Rollin had never been beaten. He had never been forced to do anything he did not want to do. He had never felt the sting of whips. In his weakened condition he could not defend himself. There was no one there to help. He drew off the ring and tossed it into the road. The traveling bag, his watch and money followed. He even threw out his fountain pen and a folding pocket tooth- brush. = “Hell!” grunted the robber, looking at the folding brush. ‘“‘ Ain’t that cute? Me with a teethbrush! Next thing you know Tl be takin’ some one’s garters and white choker! Is this all?” “Jt is,” confessed Rollin, sick with pain. “ You—you were a bit late.” Late!” growled his highwayman, throw- ing the “ teethbrush ” in the road. “I’ve been waitin’ three hours!” CHAPTER IV. THE THIRD JOLT. ‘F our Rollin had been poor but proud a | few minutes before he was even poorer now and properly humbled. A trusted friend and employee had robbed him of home and fortune. And now a burly highwayman, masquerading in the guise of a drover, armed with a whip and a paper of tacks, had removed from him every last cent and thing of value except his clothing and the sport car. But he did not sigh. When a man has already lost a comfortable fortune and is also about to lose his life little things like disks of hard metal and bright stones do not matter. There was a spare tire on the back of the car. There was still gas in the tank. With a handful of brush he swept the tacks from the road and changed tires. This operation took about all his remaining strength, but he succeeded and climbed back in the car. Once more he was speeding on his way northward, smiling bravely in the face of adversity. Now as evening crept down from the Eomichbooks (S@)