Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 11, 1925 — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

THE BIG GUN. the conversion of the Kansas to a flagship and the unexpected arrival of a new ad- miral, with his family, for, being new to the navy, this did not seem absurd. Fear clutched him and he hastily began replacing the books and papers. However, before he could do much, the cabin door opened and the girl faced him boldly. She was indeed very bold. When she saw he did not wear a uniform, but only the blouse of a sailor, she was even ageressive.: ‘Who are you?” she demanded, coming forward. He halted, embarrassed, and replied: “A yeoman.” ‘““ What are you doing here?” ‘ T have to keep track of supplies for the captain’s table.” -She held the hat carefully behind her back as she demanded insinuatingly: “ Are you looking for them in his book-- case?” He regained his assurance a bit as he noticed that she was not so very large, nor so very old, probably several years younger than he was. He felt stirring within him a little of the consciousness of class that stirs on occasion within every wearer of the liv- ery of Uncle Sam. After all, she was merely a woman, and he had given an oath to protect the property of the service. “This is the admiral’s bookcase,” he corrected. “ But the captain’s books,’’ she insisted. She had him there. He did not know, and so could not deny it; but she moved a little, and he saw the feather dangling from the hat she held behind her. “What are you doing in the admiral’s cabin?” he demanded. For an instant her eyes—he noted they were of blue, to begin with, but became speedily bluish black with intensity, and of _ a magnetic force that seemed to resolve him - to water—flashed defiantly. Then perhaps she saw that he, too, was summoning all his courage to bluff his way through a contretemps, and she laughed, which brought the sky-blue luster back to the depths of her eyes. She tossed the hat carelessly on the table and came toward him, looking inquiringly on the sheets of 175 paper he had marked with the translations of the strange French words. ‘*T didn’t know he had novels here,” she commented, looking for the title. Then she. exclaimed: ‘‘ Why, it’s in French. Do you read French?” “No, but I have an English-French dic- tionary, and I’m getting along better than I thought I would.” With this she sat on the table, swiftly as a purring kitten, with a motion that thrilled him through and through, and asked eagerly: “‘ What’s it about? Tell me. A love story,. I'll bet.” ‘‘ No,” said he, wondering why he trem- bled so at her nearness to him; “ it’s about ballistics.” “ Bali-is-tics?” she stammered. “ What’s that?” “The science of- gauging ordnance. It describes the trajectories of the big guns.” “Oh!” Her disappointment was poign- ant. “ Just guns!” “Yes, miss.”” He was extremely shy and respectful. He felt he ought to leave im- mediately, and yet-he did not want to go. “‘ But what are you bothering about guns for—in the pantry?” This was a challenge he could not ignore, though he was confused. “The pantry,” he blurted out in reply, “jis only a stepping stone.” Then he blushed at his own temerity in revealing so much of himself to this stranger with the audacity to beard him in the admiral’s dining room, even if he had no really plaus- ible business there. Perhaps she enjoyed his blushing. Per- haps she noted his square shoulders, the unusual width between his eyes, his dreamy brow, his firm chin. Perhaps it pleased her a great deal to have so stalwart a male at her mercy. “* A stepping stone?’” she repeated, as if quizzing. ‘ What do you mean?” “IT mean I’m serving there to get a chance to study gunnery,” “What for?” He felt the beads of sweat spring to his forehead. She had no right to quiz him thus, but how could he tell her so? “Why?” she insisted calmly. (ECO) AMLICE 200K com