Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 7, 1925 — page 166: what you’re looking at

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

636 doc says to give it time. back!” = Patricia sighed. Then she brightened. “Oh, boy, when you do remember! “George it’s kind of like a fairy story, isn’t it? You remember about the prince that was. made into a toad by an old witch and then when It’s got to come they took the spell off him and he came out of the toad skin all in silk and satins and jewels—oh, boy! We'll have the laugh on this town then—” “You tell ’em, kid!” George agreed. “I was something good, I know that. I had talent, I tell you! I can feel it in me. Some day w ell have the laugh on them all, Pat.” “Hunh! the towners!’”. Patricia’s eyes sparkled with fierce pride in the anticipation. A funny kid! George couldn’t think of her without feeling a lump in his throat and a foolish moisture in his eyes. A funny, freckle-faced little devil. She had saved his life and now her friendship and belief in him was about all that kept him from going off his nut altogether what with the loneliness of this alien little hole and the drudgery of canceling his debt to it. A funny little kid! An automobile horn squawked impatient- ly from the road. ‘“‘ Somebody after gas,” George observed. | “II go,” Patricia volunteered. with your job.” George, busied with his work, was aware of several distant voices and then Patricia’s tones raised suddenly: ‘‘ Yes, you will, too, pay for that gas and oil, Hod Graham! My father says—” She broke off with a sharp cry; “‘ George!” George came at a run. A small light roadster stood by the gas pump, Hod Graham’s little, cheap car and it was Graham’s face that peered out, jeer- ing at the girl who demanded payment. The machine started away from the pump, Graham laughing uproariously. The car was in low gear, rolling past George. Then it ceased to roll. Though the engine kept on and the wheels scuffed up the gravel the car stood still. George “ Go on had reached out a big hand and caught at the spare tire carrier in the rear. George bowed his back. ‘The rear of the car left the ground, its wheels buzzing ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. angrily. George trundled it back to the garage door and dropped it with a slam. Before the astonished driver could do anything, George reached in, wound his hand in Graham’s coat collar and lifted him out, kicking and waving his arms. Hod Graham was helpless in his grip and near to strangulation. His face was red and his eyes stuck out with fear. “ Apologize and pay the girl,” George growled. “T was only funning, Patricia,” Graham gasped. ‘‘ Here!” he proffered the price of the gas and oil. | “That'll do,” George conceded, and tossed him idly to one side. Graham went stumbling. * There, kid,” said George grinning, 5 guess that’l teach him your sick goat isn’t dead yet—” “ George!” Patricia screamed and point- ed behind him. Hod Graham had fetched up in the heap of scrap iron beside the garage door and he seized the first convenient weapon, a slender steel brake rod. Graham poised the rod to deal George a wicked blow as the latter whirled about. The rod caught George on the shoulder and his hand closed over it, twisting it from Graham’s clutch. George stared curiously at the slender rod, holding it between his outstretched fists. Almost quicker than the eye could follow his hands performed an evolution. The straight rod doubled into a loop. An- other manipulation and another loop, trans- forming the bar into a neat steel bowknot before Graham’s staring eyes. George shook the thing in Graham’s face. “Next time UIl bend one of these around your head,” he said sternly. ‘“ Now, get Graham’s little car went buzzing down the road. George looked at the twisted brake red, examining it thoughtfully. His eyes Becai to shine. ‘“ Pat!” he exclaimed, a queer vibration of excitement in his tone. “Pat, Pve got it now—I remember who T am—” | “Oh, George!” George beamed. ‘“ You were right, kid. I’m some good after all. I’m you can be proud of—” =S something Eomichooks