Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 125: what you’re looking at

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

THE SELF-ASSASSINATION OF ANGEL. Twenty years’ partnership and association with Solemn had familiarized him, to a cer- tain extent, with the other’s idiosyncrasies. “Come on!” Solemn half-chuckled, lift- ing Old Bob in his arms and starting to re- trace his steps toward Wong Gee’s Cate. Dirty Shirt himself began to get the same thought working in Solemn’s mind, and _ Dirty Shirt grinned. Old Bob was an armful for Solemn, but Solemn did not complain. He felt that he was bound on an errand of mercy. If he could provide Angel with even a temporary vent for his too-long suppressed desire to annihilate something, Solemn con- sidered that the mere physical exertion of lugging a twelve pound tomcat through the streets of Red Bluff at 4:30 A.M. was a trifiing sacrifice on his part. For Solemn had never been able wholly to efface from his memory the pathetic appeal he had seen in Angel’s black eyes that evening eight months before when he and Dirty Shirt had first invested in ham and eges in Wong Gee’s restaurant. Wong Gee had retired, hours before, to his sleeping quarters in the pantry between the kitchen and the dining room. ‘“What’s the mallow? What th’ hell’s th’? mallow?” Wong Gee queried, sleepily, in response to Solemn’s impatient rattling of the door. ‘“ What you wantee?” “Open up, Wong Gee!” Solemn an- swered, ‘“ I’ve got a proposition.” “< Ploposition?’ ”” Wong Gee questioned, opening the door, ‘‘ what you mean ‘ plopo- sition?’ ” “A proposition to give Angel some ex- ercise!” Solemn replied, as he and Dirty Shirt stepped inside. “We've got a scheme for Shier Ate Angel!” Dirty Shirt chipped in, “ we’ve got a dandy plan to help him unrepress ae have a fight! Bring him out. Will he fight a cat?” “Angel fight anything—cat, dog, devil —even, what you call him?—buzz-saw! Him lonesome allee time ie: fight anything = Angel fight buzz-saw—”’ So wil Old Bob!” Solemn laughed, “that’s what give me the idea! Between them they ought to enjoy it quite a lot!” Angel crowed lustily from his coop be- 150 hind the restaurant; Old Bob squirmed in Solemn’s arms and meowed. “ Bring him out,” Dirty Shirt ureed Wong Gee. “ Go get Angel and let him and Old Bob turn loose—” But Solemn had suddenly acquired a larger vision: ‘That ain't the project at all!” he in- terrupted. ‘ This ain’t goin’ to be no amateur contest—this is a championship engagement! And the combatants have got to be trained—” ‘* Angel him always tlained!” Wong Gee broke in. “ Him too damned tlained allee time! Ange! never quit being tlained!” * Well, we'll train him a little extra for this episode!” Solemn declared, “ all we wanted to do to-night was sign up the arti- cles of incorporation! Dirty Shirt can train Angel and [ll personally manage Old Bob myself. We'll hold the fight in Saloon Number Four, next Saturday p.m., and show Red Bluff a gladiatorial explosion that will knock spots off of civilization!” For the several intervening days, Mother Skillern wondered where Old Bob had gone. Old Bob himself had no doubt whatever as to his location. He was in the lower story of the double-deck wire coop behind Wong Gee’s restaurant, and the most dis- agreeable rooster extant lived on the upper floor. Those were Old Bob’s sentiments. Day and night, without ceasing, he was re- minded of rooster—he could hear rooster, smell rooster, through the cracks ‘in the ceiling of his apartment, could see rooster, and fervently in his heart Old Bob re- solved that if ever he got the chance he would taste rooster! This ambition was stimulated by the consummate cunning of Solemn’s system of training Old Bob. It was very simple: Nothing to eat except barely enough raw liver to make Old Bob’s appetite a two-edged sword and each edge a trifle sharper than the other. If Old Bob wanted to take a nap, Angel selected that particular time of day or night to practice crowing; should Old Bob desire to meditate, Angel instantly developed an irresistible passion to scratch and kept Old Bob busy do dging things which fell through the open spaces in the ceiling. oO Eomichooks (<@)