Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

A MONTH TO LIVE. 9 wooded hills and the cool flush of night settled into the narrow valleys; as the bull- bats cried out overhead and joyous thrushes. began their evening requiem, there stirred deep within the tortured vitals of Rollin Ross Foster Livingston a new and totally Strange sensation. This was alarming, When one is satisfied that one has all the pains and symptoms available a new sensa- tion is disquieting. It was like unto noth- ing Rollin had ever experienced before. it was not a pain nor yet an ache, but a mys- terious something that seemed to be clutch- ing at his very vitals, feeling around in his middle for the sources of life in order to strangle it. At first he thought it might be the Thing various doctors had prophesied might steal upen him unawares at any time. A cold sweat started out on his bony brow, his hands trembled so he was barely able to keep the car into the narrow road. At this critical moment, with a prayer of relief on his thin lips, he rolled into the shaded street of a tiny. village and al-. most of its own accord the car slowed down and stopped before a little tavern of an- cient days. Perhaps there was a doctor here. It was a tiny village, with less than fifty little houses clustering close to the shaded highway under the spread of giant elms and maples. The tavern was a two story, high pitared old white hostelry with a double decked, wide veranda and a homelike hos- pitable atmosphere. But in all that village there was hardly a sign of life. The forge was dead in the blackened interior of the open blacksmith shop. The hammer was silent in the old wood colored cooper shop. There was no one on the street, no faces at the windows. It was like the abandoned village of some fairy tale. A yellow cat lay sleeping on a white fence. A shepherd dog lay open-eyed, but too lazy to move, by a damp well curb. The magic of this is easily explained. The villagers were all at supper. A rich aromatic fragrance floated on the still air—the delicate odor of a fat steak being pan-broiled. It was then that the strange sensation racking the body of the young man in the sport car, which had nearly scared him to death, was properly diagnosed to his numb senses, He was hungry! Yes, sir! Laugh if you want to—but Rollin had never been hungry before! He didn’t recognize the sensation at all. He had sensed the faint desire for food, but never the acute need of it. Rollin turned the car in beside the tav- ern porch and got out hurriedly. Then quite as quickly he crawled weakly back. He realized that to purchase food in a strange place money is necessary and he had not a cent. And now that he had not the means of satisfying the cravings of hunger, like the fiend it was, the gnawing mounted swiftly to new agonies. He knew now how the starving explorer must feel—why the shipwrecked sailor goes mad! And then, good Lord! It occurred to him that not only was he starving without the means to secure food, but that he was actually forbidden to eat. He was on the strictest kind of a diet. This was complicated. The first whisper of rebellion voiced itself deep within. Those damned doctors—he wondered if they had ever been hungry— actually hungry? Never before had Rollin had to think about where his next meal was coming from or how he would pay for it. Now he had to consider both, and he did some heavy cogitation in a very few minutes, He unstrapped the punctured tire from the back of his car, hooked it on his thin arm and advanced into the hotel. It was deserted. He threw the tire on the little counter near the cigar case, making as much noise as he could. His ruse was successful. In a minute or two a pudgy little old proprietor ap- peared, swallowing the last morsel of his supper. He was a smiling, pleasant-faced, rotund, little old man in his shirt sleeves and faded blue galluses, a rim of white whisker fringing his face. “ Drive right in and hitch!” scowled he, glaring at the tire. . ‘“‘1’d like to,” sighed Rollin. ‘‘ Do you think the rest of the car will be safe out there?” “Sater” Gomicvooks.co