Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 7, 1925 — page 107: what you’re looking at

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

WILLIAM TRIES THE ROUGH STUFF. afternoon. And how deadly dull and - monotonous and awful it would be!” “Aw Suzanne! Why can’t you be seri- ous for a minute. Dad will build us a big house—” — “Don’t want a big house.” “Well, what do you want?” Suzanne gazed pensively at the ragged half moon. “JT want a little cabin—on a white, sandy beach with no hoptoads. A cabin mostly all fireplace—you know, the huge, rough stone kind. Big jars of golden- rod and asters on the reantel. And bright blue furniture. And a pretty blue boat to match—fat blue cushions—and, yes, a tiny tinkly phonograph. And a perfectly - mar- velous cook to cook just nothing but fried — chicken and cherry pie and wateraidon pickles—”’ “ Yes, go on,” breathed William. a And two be-eautiful sets of twins—” An alien sound—sonorous, hngering, in- terrupted her reverie. 3 ‘“What’s that?” squealed Suzanne. “That? Oh—that’s nothing. Just one of those queer, unaccountable night noises — you always hear out in the big, open—” ‘“ Night noises is right! Ive been hear- ins ’em ever since I can remember. Id know that musical snere anywhere. Dad— where are you? Dad, you miserable old sinner, wake up! Come and join the happy family!” | A grunt, a low mumble, and Mr. Sprague, despite William’s frantic signals, sham- bled, groaning and stretching, into the firelight. “ Young feller!” he roared, “ Why did you tell me there was no mosquitoes on this beach? Millions of ’°em! Millions! I’m well nigh eaten alive! You signal that speed- boat, an’ be damn quick about it! Won’t be your fault if I don’t die of malaria—er else a CE on that cold, damp sand—thought sere ‘a’ had a floor in your ee “« Serves Suzanne. innocent! this!” “ That’s it! poor old dad! you right, dad!” giggled “Oh, you needn’t try to look I knew you had a hand in Drag me ‘way out here for EA one fine fixer, you are! Blame everything on your speedboat to contradict her. THE END Ott : F weakfish, an’ all I get is a couple a’ measly - flounders—an’ not even a taste of them! Me—eatin’ cold corn beef sandwiches, while you eat up all my fish! Couldn’t even see my. pipe—pretty near dead of thirst — Suzanne’s shoulders i to shake. “ Oh—you two!” she gasped. “If you’re not just too funny for words! {Isn’t often that a girl begins her honeymoon by getting kidnaped be “Honeymoon?” burbled William hope- fully. ‘“ Honeymoon!” growled Mr. Sprague. You see, dad,” Suzanne caroled, “ Turk was a. little afraid of Wilham and his— ‘taking ways. So he married me the eve- ‘ning he took me to Sayville—just to be on the safe side!”” “ Aw—go on—Suzanne! eullible as we look!” Suzanne drew out a slender chain and held it up to the firelicht. “ Wedding ring —engagement ring—” she told them off dramatically. There was an ominous si- Tence. “ And the certificate,” she added shamelessly, “is in my stocking. If William will = turn his head—” ““Gee-ee gosh!” groaned William. “I den’t want to be shown anything more! Gee—gosh! Mr. Sprague, you’re certainly Putting me up to abducting a married woman—”’ ‘ Sufferin’ saints!” gulped Mr. Sprague. “ How in time was I to know that this nervy little minx would—” “ Oh, but you’re the wise guy that knows all abaue women!” “ Voung feller, take it from me—I don’t know nothin’ aboiit women! You don’t know nothin’ about women. Don’t nobody know nothin’ about ’em, no time, no- how!” “Vou said it!” declared William ruefully. “Well, this finishes me! Never:again! I’m off ’em for life! From now on I’m the hard boiled, steel-hearted woman-hater!” “Yes, Will-yum,” giggled Suzanne, “ frem now on—until—about day after to- morrow!” And William was too busy signaling the We're not as ™), ye Comicbooks (E(@)