Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 189, No. 4 — page 47: what you’re looking at

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

THE BULLY OF Only he and Georgia Michigan Woodstock seemed to be alone. When he went into the adjoining lunch- room Miss Woodstock was seated there, munching a sandwich. It was, he thought, as he seated himself, a silly situation. Here they both were, alone and unattached; if it hadn’t been for her bristling disposition, the bully in her, they might now be lunch- ing together; they might go swimming to- gether this afternoon; they might, discreet- ly and innocently, hold hands as the shades of night drew on; they might drive home to- gether in the light of the ardent, amorous Florida moon. But instead of doing any of these pleas- ant, natural, civilized things, they sat at different tables munching sandwiches, one ignoring the existence of the other. How he hated that overproud, oversus- picious little beauty! Some day, somehow, he would humble her; bring her to her knees. He returned to Arcadia-on- -Ooglagoochee that evening, sunburned and tired. He slept poorly, because of the sunburn, and his dreams dealt with pigs. Teddy had never cared-~for pigs; he had always looked upon them as dirty, de- testable creatures, and since his bitter ex- perience at the hands of his next-door neighbor, his opinion of those beasts had not been improved. Teddy awoke with a grouch and to a persistent banging on his back door. He looked out of the window to find Dan Mitchel, his roustabout, hitting the door with measured strokes. Inquiry elicited the maddening information that, some time during the night Miss Woodstock’s hogs had got into his tomatoes and yams. They were still in there. Teddy saw seven distinct shades of crim- son, snatched up a pair of overalls, writhed into them and dashed out of the house with a repeating rifle in his hand and murder in his eyes. Happy grunts greeted him as he .ap- proached the first of his tomato fields. Devastation met his eyes as far as they would reach. Orderly rows of young pea were brok- en, trampled, uprooted. In the yam fields, -BISCAYNE BAY. 517 vandals were grunting, squealing with de- light, and rooting up seedlings as if it were a delightful game. As Teddy began massacring hogs, a species of vicious animal delight crept through his veins. He was, at long last, getting his revenge on that Woodstock girl; not the precise kind of revenge he had an- ticipated, but one just as good, or better, and thoroughly, legally, morally, justified. He’d teach that girl to let her hogs roam around, wantonly destroying the property of others. He’d teach her a lesson she wouldn’t soon forget. Dan Mitchel watched his handiwork with the fascinated round eyes with which the black race has forever attended the caprices of the white. From time to time he chuck- led softly. Teddy shot fourteen hogs before the de- spoilers fled beyond range. He then in- structed Dan to hitch up the wagon, load up the dead hogs and deliver them at Miss Georgia Michigan Woodstock’s back door. He wished he could have accompanied Dan; he wanted to see the expression on Miss Woodstock’s face when that load of dead pigs was dumped in her back yard. But that would have been rubbing it in and, besides, knowing the firecracker nature of her character, he was certain that she would pay him a visit before very long. He was eating his breakfast when Georgia Michigan Woodstock rode up to his back door on a white mule named Rabbit. She was followed by Dan and the wagon. The wagon, Teddy saw, still bore its freight of four-legged corpses. “Unload them right there, Dan,” said Miss Woodstock in a sweet, calm voice. Teddy Armbister emerged from the house. He was enjoying the situation huge- ly, but he wasn’t smiling. He was, however, a little surprised when he saw that there were no tears in her eyes, no evidence, indeed, of any emotion in her face. She presented a cool, beautiful and businesslike appearance. “You shot these hogs of mine, didn’t you, Mr. Armbister?”’ she inquired. “T believe I did,” was Teddy’s equally brisk answer; but he resisted the tempta- tion, even then, to rub it in. (ECO AMINE JOOKS (E(0)