Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 167: what you’re looking at

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

, ; THE TOUR OF THE BOUNCING JUNK. bunch, where do we garner the money for hotel and railroads?” © Da da!” adds my baby Alexander, who is always taking his poor father’s part. ‘“‘ Listen to that stonehead!” blurbs Jo- seph, nearly choking on some costly food. “What d’yer mean—hotels and railroad fare? Ain’t you never heard of automobiles and tents?” ‘What are you driving at?” I want to know. “Sizzling spaniel—what a boob you are!” he snorts. ‘“ Sister, you sure married a prize chump! Bill ain’t never heard of motor camping and touring. Why, last year alone two million cars transported about ten million tourists across the coun- try. They went out in everything from a 1856 flivver to a new Beverwick sedan. They packed a tent on the running board and laughed at hotels and railroads for months at a time. Laugh that off!” ““TIsn’t that wonderful?” enthuses the missus. “ I’d just love to go on a trip like that, really. I’m so tired of being around this stuffy old place. And I’m sure that baby Alexander would enjoy it, too.” “Great!” I says. ‘‘ But whose car do we go in, and, tell me, where do we get the tent?” z “Getting a car and tent is a cinch!” ejaculates the brilliant Joseph. ‘‘ Don’t worry—I’ll attend to all that part. Right now I know where I can grab off a second- hand boat that’s a shade better than new —also a tent. And all for two hundred berries.” _ “ Raspberries?” I ask innocently. _ He snorts at my jovial wit. “If that’s supposed to be funny,” he says, “ then ‘ Hamlet’ is the world’s great- est comedy! Now kindly shut up a minute and listen to me. To-morrow morning you tell that money-loving boss of yours that you have suddenly contracted some fierce ailment—see? Tell ’im you need at least a week to get back on your feet—otherwise you won’t be worth a German sou markee to the business, which is prob’ly the truth, anyway. Get the big idea?” ‘““Go on with the movie,” I says, sarcas- tic. ‘‘ Where did you say the money for the ATT ‘“Where in the Flint d’yer suppose it comes in—through the window? I'l at- tend to all that. After, we can go fifty- fifty on the deal.” “I do wish,” butts in my radiant soul mate, “ that you’d let brother Joseph man- age things. He’s so smart when it comes to arrangements.” Don’t you love that? “‘ Besides the car and tent, I'll get some fishing tackle,” he goes on, diving into his third cup of sixty-cents-a-pound Java. ‘What for?” “Listen to ’im,” he snorted. ‘‘ What d’yer suppose we need ’em for—to trap porcupines? I’m going to show you how to catch trout, and plenty of ’em!” “Trout, eh?” he sneers. ‘Say, you wouldn’t know a trout from a Patagonian giraffe. Boy, be yourself!” “Ts that so?” he flares. ‘“ I’ll just bet you now, stupid, that I catch more trout than you. The man who loses has to pay for the whole outfit. Is it a bet?” “I know that Joseph is a wonderful fisherman,” adds the lady. ‘‘ When we were both children he used to take me down to the old mill stream and catch lots of bullheads.” 3 | ‘“ Ha-ha—only bullheads, huh?” I giggle. ““ Any fool can catch bullheads! head is so dumb it will even bite on carbolic acid.” ** Never mind the blaah,” Joseph growls. ‘“‘ Are you willing to take the bet, or ain’t you? Remember, though, the guy who loses pays for the whole outfit. And I'll let you get your trout any old way, except buy 7em.”’ : “T’ll go you!” I fires back. ‘ Believe me, if you can cast out and catch anything but pneumonia, I’ll be glad to pay for the whole shebang.” “Then it’s a bet,’ beams Joseph, get- ting up and reaching for his hat. ‘I'll be around with the whole outfit Sunday morn- ing early. Then we start for the moun- tains. By-by, sister; ta-ta, Alexander; long, clown!” Well, to dwarf a ee I prevail upon the boss to release me for a week, laying claim to symptoms of paresis, ague, and assorted diphtheria. So that was all oO comichbooks (EO)