Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

A MONTH stead of weeks, and perhaps even to min- utes. They would have expected him to curl right up and die. may seem, he never felt more content, more physically fit than he did when he had thus recklessly eaten all he could possibly hold of forbidden things and pushed back from the table to await the first symptoms of dis- aster. - And the best of it all was, he didn’t care if it did kill him! He was going to do just as he darned well pleased these next few weeks. Nothing happened. Beyond the surprise to his interior he felt no alarming symptoms. Probably with a little practice, he reflected, he could eat more next time! He lighted a cigarette and walked out of the dining room to the porch—only to stop there in amazement. The cigarette dropped from his open lips; his eyes bulged. The sport car had disap- peared! a CHAPTER V. ROLLIN OVERDOES., HIS country tavern, true to type, was nothing more.than a comfortable club for the men of the village where they played pool and seven-up, smoked, and vis- ited. It was dry. A suspicious looking stranger couldn’t buy a liquid thing there. But the local residents didn’t seem to notice that it was any more arid in that section of the country than it had been since the first white trader swapped a bottle of let-down rum for a package of beaver skins. The average visitor leaned up against the bar and ordered a sandwich. The propri- etor sat up a dirty plate holding a dark object that looked like something left be- hind by the Cliff Dwellers and only recently discovered. Then he opened a cool bottle. A foamy substance ran out of it—and the sandwich was forgotten. A quarter rang in the till. The dusty, thumb-marked plate with its prehistoric relic disappeared below until next time. Now and then some one asked for a cigar, closing the right eye, and a coverless But, strange as it. TO LIVE. 11 cigar box was passed out from which he selected a dark, dry cylinder, that had been previously manhandled. He threw down fifty cents. Immediately a small glass ap- peared, holding a fiery amber fluid. Some- times the customer threw the cigar back in the box, as often as not on the floor, but he never attempted to smoke it. These de- coys were never lost. It was while the ancient sandwich was hopping on and off the bar, like a Mexican Jumping bean, that the proprietor told of Rollin’s misfortune. ““ An’ he was held up this afternoon by a robber and robbed,” announced the propri- etor. ‘ Big feller in a black mustache— took everything he had right down to his toothbrush.” ‘“ An’ now some pesky varmint has took his car—” “It was right there when he went in to supper—an’ now she’s gone—slick an’ clean.” “Well,” grinned Rollin, ‘ if I am at all’ careful of my clothes, and sleep in them from now on, this ought to be the end of robbing me.” When they tried to notify the county sheriff by the rural telephone the line was dead, and not until the next day did they discover that the clever thieves had cut the wires on both sides of the village. All Rollin had left in the world, besides the clothes he stood there in, was the punc- tured tire. And no one could agree as to how much this tire was worth, as it could not be used on any of the light and lighter cars of the neighborhood.. The smith al- lowed it was worth three dollars of any man’s money, but he was naturally preju- diced against automobiles. Other figures varied from five to eight dollars, but no one offered to buy it at any price. Even the proprietor refused to accept it in pay- ment for the supper. “The devastation was awful,” said he, “ but I guess I can stand th’ loss.” “Now, if there was only a tin ped- dler—” Rare as this species of junk dealer has become, almost as extinct as the prairie schooner, the words were no sooner spoken than what should come poking over the top COPMicooolkSse©