Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 168: what you’re looking at

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

—. yelps. settled. The missus packs about everything that we positively wouldn’t need on a camp- ing and touring trip, including Alexander’s go-cart and a silk shirt I got when Clev- land was elected. _ “ Better leave home the grand piano,” I suggest meekly. “Till attend to the packing!” she gloops. And believe me, boys and girls, she does! Th. SUNDAY morning, two hours before day- light, I hear what I think is a three-alarm fire in the block. If it wasn’t that it must have been an earthquake! JI hop out of my downy bed—ha, ha!—dashed to what is innocently called the reception room, and hurl up a window. Peering into the dark- ness, I hear a familiar voice. “Hey, Bill!” it yelps. ‘“ What’s the _ matter? You should have been ready long ago. Shake it up—I got the boat all primed to go! Jus’ listen to that motor purr!” Hot Fido—what a racket! _ **What’s the idea of waking up the city so early?” I holler down. ‘“ For the love of Pete, shut off that tornado! What is “What d’yer mean—what is it?” he “Does it look like an airship?” “Sounds like a war,’ I shoot down. “Better turn it off before the neighbors lynch you.” “You're crazy!” he hoots. ‘“ The mo- tor is no less than a Salient Silent Four.” Suddenly about sixteen windows open hither and yon. Out of the sixteen no less than fifty heads bob out and give Joseph the idea that they could do without his ‘presence. ‘““ Hey, where’s the fire?” howls one en- raged fella with a towel wrapped around his ones _ ‘*S’matter?” yelps another. — gas main bust again?” _. “ Hey, you!” roars a third disuarked cliff _ dweller. “If you don’t turn off that Get- _tysburg I'll come down and crown yer!” Joseph turns it off. Half an hour later we're dressed and go down to see what sort of bargain Joseph has bought. * Did that What a terrible sight it was! ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. One thing was positive, it certainly wasn’t any shape or form of a Beverwick.” ‘“ How much did this mess set us back?” I want to know. ‘Only two hundred,” enthuses Joseph. “Tt was worth a thousand when it was new, and it’s worth at least five hundred right now. Some scow, hey?” “Yeah,” I says. ‘‘I wonder why Co- — lumbus sold it?” Joseph ignores the doubtful wit, jumps into the driver’s seat. “Let’s go!” he orders. “I wanna try and make Lake George by to-night.” ‘““Tsn’t it a sweet little car!” enthuses the missus. “I just knew that brother Joseph would get a bargain.” Well, to get down to brass tacks, as the hammer says, we start off with brother dear doing what is supposed to be driving. As we head into Yonkers, he misses a traffic cop’s shins by a mere inch. However, be- tween New York and Albany, he only makes one stop—the time he bumps into a guy with a brand new Codillo, near Poughkeepsie. Although Joseph hits the innocent party in the rear, he has the nerve to hop out and call the liveried chauffeur everything but his right name. The braided gent doesn’t waste any time in trying to compete with Joseph’s flow of steamed language. With- out uttering a single adjective, he hauls off and pops the dumb wonder a torrid left to the nose, whilst his boss applauds the boxing match. After which, the pilot hops onto his seat and speeds away, leaving the world and the dust to Joseph. Furious he makes a bluff at trying to head him off, but by the time we arrived at Lake George, the Codillo must of been passing Labrador and points north! At Lake George we camp for the night. Joseph wakes me early next morning and leads me to what he calls the world’s great- est trout stream, and we start the contest. Although I wads positive that he didn’t know any more about the fine art—“ fine” is right—of trout fishing than I did about wearing two noses, I decided not to take any chances of losing the bet. The whole outfit, including the car, cost about three hundred pesos, and if I could get the bril- and oO Eomichbooks