Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 101: what you’re looking at

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

THE WEDDING GIFT. of the other three rooms on that landing. In a little less than half an hour there would be none at all; for Thumb’s grip was packed, his room was paid for in advance according to Shawmut Avenue tradition, and there was nothing to detain him longer in the Hub. In short, the little army was all set to move upon Bingham, and to remove from its nice brick bank the cash on hand, the contents of its safe deposit boxes, and what they had. It was not proposed to move with a fan- fare, nor with banners waving. The parade was to take as little time as possible passing any given points, and to proceed through the less populated and more scenic routes to its rendezvous. But as even hick con- stables, not to mention the State police, could hardly fail to take notice of the pas- sage of twelve such hardbitten characters for more than one of whom a rich reward was awaiting the claimant, they followed the usual procedure of yeggs by breaking up into small groups of not over two or three, and planning to meet two nights hence at an abandoned barn some two miles this side of Bingham, a haven discovered and fully mapped by the industrious gay cat, Little Jem. ** No booze, no skirts, no noise,”’ warned Thumb, who knew as well as any poet what limitless possibilities lurk in this combina- tion. ‘‘ After we crack this box and make our getaway, ya can raise all the hell ya wanta. Carnegie’ll have nothin’ on youse!” Which was a manner of speaking. Thumb Carlin. intended no slur on the donor of libraries as a cut-up in his leisure moments. Thumb waited until, by ones and twos, and at decent intervals his trusty fellows had stolen down the stairs and out into Shawmut Avenue. Then, with a final glance to see that nothing that could pos- sibly connect him as a former tenant had been overlooked in waste basket, bureau drawer, or closet corner, he nodded to Mr. Hambone Slade, whom he had chosen to companion him. Hambone thereupon picked up the fitted traveling bag of his leader—his own effects being stuffed into his pockets—and they checked out of the lodging house by the ae simple process of tossing the rront door key | onto the hall table that stood at the foot of the stairs. A word as to the contents of Thumb Carlin’s bag. There was a double fistful of capable looking keys, a spider with | which to work safety locks, some thin strips of celluloid bent at right angles at one end, two well oiled gats, a sectional steel jimmy as beautifully made as a dental tool, a large thermos bottle containing the “soup” used in persuading reluctant strong-boxes, two pairs of cotton gloves and several black silk handkerchiefs. There were also a clean shirt and socks, a comb with quite a number of its teeth remaining, and a worn toothbrush. For all his deplorable lack of civic conscious- ness, Mr. Carlin was neat in his personal habits, if not actually fastidious. if, WHEN the combination baggage and smoker staggered into Moosuc, the com- bination conductor and trainman an- nounced huskily: “ All out! Fur’s the train goes.” Three passengers thereapon alighted. One of them lived in Moosuc, and so had intended to get out here. The other two were Thumb Carlin and Hambone Slade, who had planned to go to the end of the one-track line, which was Pittsfield. re “How comer” Thumb asked the one- man train crew, as his eyes vainly sought to pierce the black night which a single lantern did little to dispel. ‘““Steam-box gotta be packed. Old Number Twenty-one is plumb worn out, anyhow! But we'll leave to-morrow at seven A.M.” “S’pos’n’ ya don’t get her fixed?” ob- jected Hambone. ‘Make no difference. The other train gits in from Pittsfield at seven, and she’ll haul us out.” “What sort of a place is this burg? Any hotel here?” “Rotten,” the trainman- erunted. ‘“ There’s an old tavern straight up the road to your right ’bout a quarter of a mile. Ed Mosely runs it. He'll put you up.” The two set forth not uncheerfully. It I~ co E ‘[comichoo All