Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 11, 1925 — page 72: what you’re looking at

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

226 He awoke at last to a saner world. The ivory walls began to focus. The bars of his cage were found to be mere bed rails. He attempted to sit up, but found himself weak and bound by an iron-clad splint upon his right forearm. His throat and tongue and eyes felt parched, as if a recent con- flagration had burned away the natural moisture, and he pondered upon this miracle until he became aware of a persistent shadow hovering near him. He turned his weary head on the piilow. His widened eyes beheld the coal-black, kinky-haired creature of his dreams. “You here again?” he protested. The devoted colored maid laid down a tray of dishes. “ Are you you, Mr. Kane?” she asked in a trembly voice. “ Or ain’t you there yet?” “I’m here,” he reasoned feebly, “ but where is it?” *‘'You’re back!” she declared. “ Yes-sir, right here in Miz’ Paula’s room, safe an’ sane. Glory! You shore went a powerful long distance, Mr. Kane!” “Paula,” considered Steve. Paula. Oh, yes. Where is she?” “Why, Miz’ Paula been Arizona mighty nigh three weeks come Tuesday.” “ Three weeks?” _“ Yes-sir; Miz’ Beth, she run. the house. Policemen rampin’ around waitin’ for you to git awake and give testimonials. Yes- sir. Doctor been here three times every day. Your right arm got infested and you got a mean fever. Doctor says your tem- per’ment went up to one hundred and five, or five hundred and one, I dunno which, ’most all the time. Your arm busted all to “ Paula. pieces,” she continued. “ Yes-sir. Doc- tor, he says—”’ The door of the room opened. Beth walked in, looking tired and wan, wear- ing a simple gray thing which seemed to be giving its last service. She looked at the talkative servant, laying a finger to her. lips. The maid became silent. Steve turned his languorous head and saw Beth. “Oh, yes,” he remembered brightly, “vou’re the girl that played the piano!” Then he went to sleep again. Time passed. Came a morning when a ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. batch of telegrams, letters and newspapers was. laid upon his bed, and he started catching up with the events of the world. Beth drew up a chair alongside him, ar- ranging things in consecutive order. The first was a sheaf of old telegrams. Steve was able to trace the journey of Slim and Shorty and their demoniac cab through hair-raising adventures where miracles abounded. The work of rescue on the Ridge Road consumed two days. Repairs took an- other day. The engine went entirely A. W. O. L. in the San Fernando Valley. After more repairs the errant machine se- lected a spot to halt in the middle of a busy highway near Los Angeles, where a traffic cop helped to shove the thing into a ditch. The rear axle housing was prac- tically apart. After more doctoring, the in- tractable car limped onward, only to halt again at Riverside, Palm Springs, and even Yuma. A plaintive letter from Slim com- pleted the sad record. Slim wrote from the ranch: We got the damn thing here and we shoved the prisoners into the mine at Casey’s Hole under guard. The prisoners are terrible sick and willing to do anything you want, but if you ever make us do another fool stunt like that again, we are going to quit you cold. Appended thereto was a carbon copy of another letter, written under extreme pres- sure by Hammond to his ae pals in the city: I have found the swellest joint you ever saw, a regular little private hotel in the moun- tains. The place has been abandoned for years. It is a lulu of a place, full of fruit trees and melon patches. I have stocked it full of canned grub. I get all the magazines and sporting papers and hear concerts every night by radio. This is the life. Any time things get too hot for you, come down here. If you are broke I will send you a railroad ticket. Tell all the other boys about it, but for the love of Mike, do not let the news get away from our gang. It is too good to spoil. We can keep this as a secret hang- out for the whole.crowd. Steve laughed at this picture of the bare old mining claim among the wind-blown crags of Casey’s Hole; but Beth next shoved forward the front page of a two-