Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 71: what you’re looking at

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

THE INCOMPLETE Sewall rushed to the window. The news- boys, of course! As he pulled on his shoes he grinned sheepishly. How shocked Aunt Sarah would be over this leisurely morning start. Very different from the pictures they had cherished of his activities in the land of the free and the wild! Well, anyway, he had undertaken to see this West, and see it he would. He realized, however, that his orig- inal enthusiasm had been largely replaced by determination and a certain amount of grimness. Twenty minutes later he stepped out into the glare of an August noon in Los Angeles. He was immediately accosted by a fat, ear- nest little man who popped up at him from beneath a large umbrella, striped red and yellow. ‘““ Free ride, sir! Free supper! See the cowboys ride the wild mustangs! There’s going to be a real old Western barbecue. Starting from Pershing Square every hour. Ticket for yourself and your lady friend. Let’s go, folks!” He thrust into Sewall’s hand two tickets and a circular; then turned to the next victim. One glance at the circular gave Sewall a confused impression of bucking broncos, real estate, oil units, and barbe- cues. He tucked it mechanically into his pocket. a After a moment of irresolution he dodged across Hill Street. Halfway up the next block he answered a dazzling summons to eat at the Bush Brothers’ Cafeteria. The word ‘‘ eat” was what drew him. Once within the swinging doors, Sewall fitted meekly into the system which gave Bush Brothers their reputation. They owned the ‘‘ largest and most efficiently run eating house on the West coast ’—not to say in the world. Inch by inch Sewall shuffled along, making one in the animated human worm crawling toward food. On the other side of a green plush rope, agile young men with very long, thin legs and girls with tipsy hats dodged about among the tables with trays balanced at all angles. There was pushing and shoving, crowding into vacant seats—eating, eating, eating! The din of shouting voices and the clatter of dishes nearly drowned the ANGLER. 861 efforts of the gallant little orchestra leader who, with the help of the saxophone, was foolishly protesting that he had no bananas, though the salad counter plainly gave him the lie. If there had been any possible retreat, Sewall would have availed himself of it. But the only way he could move was for- ward—forward with the panting breath of a determined throng of eaters hot on the back of his neck! This was going to be an ordeal, there was no doubt of that, but Sewall was no coward. He resolved to watch the man in front of him and do as he did. The gentle- man happened to be a truck driver with a ten dollar bill and an almost unlimited ca- pacity for food. By the time he reached the cashier’s desk, Sewall carried a tray whose contents would have fed about three and a half river drivers. He had every- thing the truckman had and a few extras by way of proving his originality. He stag- gered to the nearest empty seat, at a table for two against the wall. Somehow, having the wall there, gave the thing a semblance of security. Not until he had set his groaning tray on the table did Sewall realize that he was about to sit down opposite an entirely strange young woman. Too late to retreat, however. In any case, the top of her plain straw looked harmless enough. As he took his seat, his eyes traveled to her meager lunch; bread, butter, a glass of milk, and— raspberries! Raspberries! They must be ripening now, in the wood lot. He wished he could see the face of the girl who had ordered raspberries. But her head was bent; all he could catch was a small pink chin which he fancied was not quite steady. By the way, why wasn’t she eating? Her slim little hands were tightly clasped on the table’s edge. As Sewall stared at them, marveling, a tear splashed across. the knuckles; and the girl, as if conscious of his gaze, slipped them under the table. What was she crying for? It couldn’t be hunger? Sewall glanced from her frugal meal to his own collation and almost groaned aloud. However, he couldn’t go on staring at her this way. They’d put Oo Comicbooks CO