Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 155: what you’re looking at

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

SUSPENDED Bugler Grogan crawled from his cot the next morning every man but Johnson was awake. Captain Murphy even was dressed, but not in sight. The bugle called sweetly; silence, then Grogan stuck his head into Hardvick John- son’s tent. ‘“‘ Hey, Suspended Animation, come out of it.” He gave a tug, then a harder tug before he dragged the giant to the ground. Johnson bounded up with sur- prising speed for one of his bulk. “* Yumpin’ Yimminy Chris’mus, aye bust you on nose for that!” As a sort of brother by desire Private Dugan dragged the giant aside. “ Listen, Johnson, we never fight with bare knuckles here, nor do we step on their faces when they are down as is the quaint ctstom of logging camps!” he explained. “ Instead we put on the gloves and settle it that way. I'll be your second!” He hurried the willing Johnson to the. ring and forced the gloves onto his huge paws. From across the ring came Grogan’s voice. “I'll polish that bird off in a hurry! But when he hits the canvas he’ll go right through! I'll box him!” ‘How come you can box, Grogan?” ‘“ Have to, if I got slammed in the mush I couldn’t blow the bugle.” Then Grogan’s second did a mighty un- secondly trick. He slipped around to the enemy corner. ‘ Poke him in the mush, Ole!” ‘“ Hartvig!” corrected Johnson. “ Diagram it for him, Dugan; he can’t talk American yet nor understand it!” The second hurried back to his corner. The cook was ready with the pan and hammer. Dugan was giving his man advice in a low tone. ‘ Don’t try to hit him on the head, or you'll break your hands. He’s a hard headed brute. I tackled him once myself. Don’t hit him in the stomach, that ain’t fair! Pop him on the mouth and jaw and do it quick or he’ll wreck you. You’ve sot steam, Hartvig, but that’s all you have now.” The cook banged the pan and the con- test was on. Grogan was across the ring on the jump. His gloves smacked against the giant’s jaw and rocked him to the very foundations. . 10 A ANIMATION. 945 Two more blows that would have dropped any man in the division merely jolted John- son. His own hands were held close to the body. Then Grogan’s glove crashed through the giant’s. guard and stopped against his stomach. He grunted, then roared. His gloves shot upward, then downward like a hammer; then up again. It wasn’t fighting, it was pile driving. Gro- gan crashed to the canvas and the first round still had two minutes and twenty- five seconds to go. “Wow!” Private Dugan leaped into the ring and picked up Grogan’s bugle. His cheeks puffed out, but only a squawk came. “Oh to be a bugler,” he moaned, then hummed a bar of reveille: “Tum, tum, ta-a-a-ah! Tum, tum, ta-a-a-ah!” When he had finished he turned to taps: “Tum, tum, teedy, um-m-m-m. Tum, tum, teedy, um-m-m.” Then some one got a pail of water. “Why didn’t you hit him sooner?” Dugan demanded. ‘“ He almost had you out!” “Vell, you said it wasn’t fair hit in stomach, and he kept yaw covered. Then he hit me in stomach and aye get mad and cut loose!” ‘“‘T’'ll tell the world you did! Well, it’s all over even to the shouting and you cracked him where I told you to. The boxer who obeys instructions from his corner will get ahead. Follow me, Ole, and youl wear diamonds!” ‘“ Hartvig!” corrected Johnson. V. Tue sun had played on the snow capped peaks for some little time. The river sang merrily in its rush to the Straits of Juan de Fuca, that lay somewhere beyond the lofty portals of the Elwha Valley. Within the boundaries of the camp only two men were awake. One of them was the cook. : He was enjoying a morning cup of Java and that wasn’t all he was enjoying. Just across the way a disconsolate figure sat on oO COnniclooo S GO