Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 189, No. 4 — page 50: what you’re looking at

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

520 the darkness there, leaped five feet up the wall and glared with hateful dead eyes, The young man went to bed, but not to sleep. He tossed for some hours before, finally, he slipped off into a topsy-turvy land where hogs swam in a jade sea in pur- suit of animated ponderosa lemons while he and Georgia Michigan, hand in hand on a rocking raft, cheered them on. He was awakened by a loud and hated voice. “ Mr. Armbister! Mr. Armbister!” And a reiterated thumping on his back door. Teddy sat up shivering. There was a keen nip in the air. He went, with chat- tering teeth, to the window and looked down. All below was darkness, but off to the east he discerned the ruddy glow of fire. His first thought was triumphant. The fire was in the direction of the Wood- stock place. Georgia Michigan’s place was in flames; she had come over to him for help—to him! With what pleasure he would tell her to go to the devil when she made her appeal. “What is it?” he growled. Her voice came up, clear and thrilling with excitement: “ There’s a freeze! Aren’t you doing any- thing about it? The thermometer’s down to twenty-six!” “ T—Tll—hbe r-right d-down!” the young man stuttered. He didn’t have time to feel grateful. Later on, he might wonder at this humanitarian act on the part of the Bully of Biscayne Bay; but there was only room now for the overwhelming thought that the thermometer didn’t dare go much lower or his trees would burst! Teddy found her already at work at the smoke pots in his grove when he reached there—clad only in overalls pulled on over his pyjamas. The glow from the pot she was feeding showed him a smudged, be- smoked face. Georgia Michigan, too, had evidently wasted little time in dressing. She was wearing nothing, apparently, but an old white shirt, a man’s shirt, tucked into a pair of corduroy breeches. Those and bed- room slippers. He was so stunned at the sight of her ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. here—voluntarily helping him save his grove —that he was helpless. “It was certainly kind—” he blurtingly began. “Get busy on that next line of pots!” she snapped. “‘ Light every alternate one on the way down, and the unlit ones on the way back. Where’s that black of yours?” “Dan?” Teddy said dazedly. “ Never mind! Snap into it!” Very much later it would occur to Teddy Armbister that, in these past weeks, he had been giving over too much thought to this girl and too little to the business of run- ning his property properly. The pots should have been in readiness. Some of them now were full of dirt and uninflam- mable rubbish. These had to be cleaned out and refueled. He took up a torch and went down be- tween the lines of trees, firing alternate smoke pots as he went. It already seemed much colder to him than when he had first come out. He was fully awake and his mind was quite clear by the time he reached the end of the pots. He realized that this freeze had come at the worst time of the year— when the sap was well up into the trees. Now they would burst even if slightly nipped. Some few of the trees, in the south- ern end of the grove, were already begin- ning to blossom; those blossoms would un- doubtedly be frozen and next fall’s crop lost. The hours that remained of that night were, to Teddy Armbister, endowed with most of the qualities of a hideous night- mare. His eyes began to smart and sting. Pots glowed like evil red eyes as far as he could see. The grove became filled with a sour smelling pall of smoke. Through this smoke, from time to time, he saw the fantastic figure of Georgia Michigan Wood- stock, dancing a savage kind of dance as she flitted from smokepot to smokepot with a blazing brand. She sent him presently to the woodpile. Dan had neglected to chop up whole quar- ter-length fat-wood logs for kindling. Ted- dy chopped until he steamed with perspira- tion. Georgia Woodstock carried a thermom- GEomichoo Ss (EO