Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 164: what you’re looking at

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320 Conley caught his opponent on the jaw and knocked him down—and out. M, At the hall of the Pastime Athletic Club there gathered the members and their ladies to do honor to Champion Patrick Conley. The occasion was joyful, the company gayly stepped the fox trot, waltz and one-step to the strains of a cheerful orchestra, and among the dancers no couple received the attention that did Pat Conley and Miss Liola McDermott. Later, refreshments would be served; but just before that there would be a presentation. At one end of a hall, upon a raised plat- form, rested the object which, in the name of admirers, was to be presented to the champion. Draped in the club colors this object defied all efforts to guess its nature. On the platform with it stood Mr. Tom Thorpe, prepared to resist any attempt of the too inquisitive. And Manager Burke cruised in the neighborhood. At midnight dancing ceased, and all gath- ered about the platform, upon which stood Tom Thorpe and Manager Burke. “Ladies and gents,” said Burke: ‘ As you know, we’re all here to-night to do honor to Mr. Pat Conley, the champ of the amachers. Now, I don’t want to take up your time talkin,’ because I know you want to get a little somethin’ to eat, and then some more dancin’ before you quit to-night. So I'll just conclude by saying that this ob- ject here beside me is a little present from some of the members of this club to the champ. And Mr. Tom Thorpe and I were THE U Lv} ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. asked to present it. Mr. Thorpe, do your duty!” = From the object Tom Thorpe promptly withdrew the drapery—and then promptly stepped off the platform. The object appeared. Of circular base, it was three feet high, and therefore in shape like the section of a great column, or a mighty smokestack, or a roundhouse. Its color, as it gleamed under the lights of the hall, was that of a full moon. There was no mistaking it for anything else than a tremendous cheese. For an instant—just an instant—there was a dull glow in Conley’s eyes and a bit of worry in Liola’s. But here Martin Burke showed the quick thinking that made him supreme among amateur managers as Pat was among the boxers. Stepping up to the monolith Burke smote it resoundingly with the flat of his hand and cried: “Tt’s all right, Pat. cheese!” The champion grinned. The crowd ap- — plauded. And it was Champion Conley who, with a great carving knife, cut slices from the cheese which were handed out to the gathering by Manager Burke, to be eaten with other refreshments of the eve- ning. | The senior Mr. Conley, who was pres: ent, partook of the refreshments. Com- menting upon his son and his son’s man- ager, who moved about so efficiently on the _ platform before him, Mr. Conley said: ) “Ah, he’s a grand young man, is Mar- It’s American tin Burke. And ’tis the furriner cheeses _ that Pat never liked.” END U Loi THE 187TH NOVEL, ORIGINALLY PRINTED SERIALLY IN THIS MAGA- : ZINE, TO BE PUBLISHED IN BOOK FORM IS THE WHISPER ON THE STAIR By LYON MEARSON (Arcosy-ALLStory WEEKLY—under the title of ““ The Man Without Hands ”—August _ 25 to September 29, 1923.) : Published in book form by The Macaulay Company, New York. Price $r. eboo KS com com