Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 12, 1927 — page 38: what you’re looking at

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

32 Avenue, lined with sailors’ slop-shops, ship chandleries, pawn shops, and notion stores. In the very first place they visited, a prize was found; nothing less than an old, soiled, vet serviceable leather kit bag that by the hotel and steamship tags gummed to it must have covered many thousands of miles. It was hers, for two dollars; and it gave to George Bangs the air of a much-traveled man. In other shops, a sufficient supply of un- derwear and socks and shirts was bought, with an extra pair of stout boots and a nautical cap. “ T ought to have a parrot,” George sug- gested. ‘One of the sort that swears in Spanish.” But Mrs. Spraiil vetoed this idea. It caused her to recall a point she had for- gotten, however; and she asked: “ Do you happen to have any tattoo marks on you?” “Yes, ma’am!” he eagerly replied, his fingers beginning to unbutton his shirt front. “Never mind!” she hastily interrupted. “T can take your word for it. But it will help carry out the seafaring story. I s’pose you never was at sea?” a ee “TI was cook on a tugboat two seasons. I can talk the lingo all right!” Mrs. Sproul nodded with satisfaction. They had returned to the South Terminal; and here she bought for him a one-way ticket to Miller’s Creek, and handed it to him with a time-table. For the better part of an hour she told him all he needed to know about her town; the names of the few people living, who would remember William Miller. The lay- out of the streets, and the principal build- ings; a tale soon told. Then, her own train made up, she left him with a cordial hand- shake, and departed for home. . That night George Bangs bought all the magazines he could find which specialized in marine stories. Being in funds, and with important luggage to tote, he took a small room in a cheap, but respectable hotel; and until his eyes crossed and he could no longer keep awake, he read story after story of pirates, smugglers, gambling on trans-Atlantic liners, ee wrecks, wees and , Pra a _ Pra = oS ow 5 = = rz = ss 4 ae te Ayame a. om = ~ oar es = <- _ = Fone = ae ' we — ak rze Cp Sa ae < at ee ae Ty 2 — 4 —— — Ar ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. filled his mind with a jumble of seafaring parases and terms. He was fully sold to the idea of assuming, the next day, a brand new personality. 3 Il. THERE were forty-three voters resident in Miller’s Creek. It was usually the first town to report in State elections; and there was a saying that had become a sort of shibboleth: As Miller’s Creek goes, so goes the State. Crowds watching the bulletin boards laughed and cheered when the loud speaker announced: “ Miller’s Creek goes Republican by twenty-four to eleven! God save the Commonwealth of Massachu- setts!” ; On a bright November morning, a quo- rum of the village electorate lounged about the little wooden depot awaiting the arrival of the down train from Boston, the one which brought the city newspapers, the mail, and now and then a traveling sales- man or a duck hunter. There were no factories or mills here. It was a rolling country of pleasant farms. Now, with frost already on the pumpkins and the corn standing in shocks, with the apple crop in and the grapes gathered, the men found plenty of time on their hands. The Boston train clattered in, came to a stop. The mail bag was heaved onto the platform, some boxes and kegs were un- loaded for the general store. The conductor waddled fatly down the steps of the smoker, and spoke familiarly to the men standing about. From the engine cab a smoke-streaked face crowned by a dirty blue cap peered forth. And then, the surprise, the unex- pected, the hope ofywhich brought the male population here daysafter day! A strange man ted; a passenger un- known to any one present, one whose busi- ness could not be guessed in this quiet ham- let sprawled comfortably almost on the State line. He was a chunky man, vith a fat, ami- able face. He was dresded in loose blue serge, with stout boots and a visored cap. In one plump hand, he bore a worn bag which was literally covered with penn labels bees ® 2 names of ee ge — = = Fone an = ono ee : ~ pee 3a. a == & —— << oe _ ee tom Sonam er ee 5 Oe oS ate Bn =, = : — Pm eomicbooke com ies ; < = awe o = Nena irc 2a Oe oe — a - = a -