Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 154: what you’re looking at

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

944 From his tent, Captain Murphy chuck- led. “ The king is dead, may the new one’s reign be brief, I want a champ!” IV. FOLLOWED a painful week. It seemed a bugler’s work is not bridge building. While the others labored with heavy timbers Grogan fished in plain sight. Many a trout he jerked from the icy depths of that swirling pool above the bridge. Each struggle was accompanied by shouts of glee. Every morning he was on hand to start the day off right. The tardy ones, and there were sure to be some, were jerked to the ground with accompanying grunts. Speed was his watchword. Those that didn’t like it could fight. A couple tackled it when properly aroused and in due time reveille and taps were blown over their prostrate forms. It was Private Dugan who showed the first signs of restlessness. The captain ob- served the signs of revolt with high glee. His men were of a fighting stock down to the last man, and their forebears had taken part in every revolution worthy of the name and some of them were still at it. He forded the river one Sunday morn- ing and wandered into a logging camp. Seated on a log was a blond giant, with blue eyes. He regarded the soldier in silence and without movement except for an occasional blinking of the eyes. Dugan bristled. ‘Hello, Suspended Animation, top of the morning to you!” Animation was no longer in a state of suspension. The blond man _ unfolded, dropped down, plucked Dugan by the col- lar and heaved him into the drink. This did not matter much because Dugan had nearly drowned in crossing the river, but his feelings were ruffled. He decided to fight, then as he reached shore he got an idea that beat the original one seven ways from the jack. ‘Fair enough! What’s your name?” ~ “ Hartvig Yonson!” “Do you spell the last with a wye or a jay?” “ A yay! >? ‘““T was in hopes that your name was ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. O’Toole, Moriarty or something; it’d made me feel a damsite better. What seems to be the rub? In other words why the gloom?” “The boss hay yumped me twice! Aye tank I quit me yob!” “* American citizen?” The blond giant nodded brightly, and straightened up with pardonable pride. ‘Goin’ on three months!” “ Then what’s the matter with joining the army? You can see how hard we have to work. It’s a cinch. Travel, pay, op- portunity, education!” Private Dugan quoted from the advertising supplied by the recruiting service. ‘“‘ Advancement, too! All you have to do is to wade the stream and enlist! Uniform, gun, and all the girls falling for you. You'd look great in a uniform. Send a picture back to Sweden!” The giant beamed. “ Aye go you one!” he announced. ‘Then come on before you change your mind!” | Private Dugan escorted the Swede across the river and into the captain’s tent. He loomed huge and dripping. ‘ Get this bird, captain, before he changes his mind. He’s the man we’re looking for!” ‘“ Suspended—” Captain and private’s mind ran in the same channel. “Don’t say it, sir, or hell throw you in the river!” warned Dugan. The captain seeing a great light worked fast. He took in the Swede’s powerful body with envious eyes. Here was a man indeed. There wasn’t a uniform that fitted him, so Captain Murphy sent a sergeant at top speed to Camp Lewis for equipment and clothing. The giant managed to split an olive drab shirt and thus wear it. Trousers fared little better. He wore his own shoes for the time being. Shortly after noon he entered the captain’s tent with- out announcing himself or saluting. ‘‘ Cap- tain, aye like tell old boss go yump in lake!”’ “Sure, go ahead, but don’t forget to come back!” He vanished and returned two hours later in a satisfied frame of mind. Grogan sized him up in the offing. The rest of the camp waited in high glee. A few, includ- ing the recruit, slept that night. When 9 A CoOmicloookS.se©