Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 7, 1928 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

14 marched down to the dining room, just managing to slide in as the doors were closing. He got the cold fragments of what was left and the attentions of a sulky waitress, but it might have been nectar and ambrosia and Ritz-Carlton serv- ice, for all that Norman knew. He beamed all through the sorry meal, and was still beaming as he left a generous tip and made his way Jjauntily out to the office. He thought at first the place was de- serted, for he saw nobody about. The salesmen and tourists who had been around that afternoon had all taken their departure on the east-bound main line express. But after a moment or two Craw- ford came out of a telephone booth, and stepped hurriedly over to the desk. From his manner and the frown he wore, Norman judged that something had gone wrong. He would have been still more certain of it if he could have overheard the colloquy that was car- ried on with the clerk. “Tisten, Frank,’ Crawford said urgently. “‘ How can I get over to Rio Rita without waiting for that gosh blamed train in the morning?” “‘ Well, there’s a car you could hire,” suggested the clerk. “ But I’m warn- ing you that it’s a dangerous road to drive at night.” “Don’t make any _ difference,” snapped Crawford. ‘ Order it around for me, will you? Gee! Why is it that just when you think everything is set, some bozo always has to get cold feet?” Then as he turned grouchily away from the desk he happened to spy Nor- man, and paused a moment as if an idea had occurred to him. “Hold on there, Frank!’ He wheeled once more to the clerk. “Don’t- order that boiler just now. Or, rather, order it; but let it wait out- side until I am ready. I don’t think I'll start for a bit yet.” He glanced at the clock, then, smoothing out the disgruntled creases ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, from his forehead, strolled over to Norman, : “ Hello, old-timer!’ he smiled affa- bly. “No hard feelings over a bit of fun we had this afternoon, I hope? Sure not. As I said to the boys: “Don’t worry. Rich is one fellow that knows how to take a joke.’ “Well,” he dropped into the vacant chair beside Norman’s, “ we lock horns at Rio Rita to-morrow, eh? You’re taking the jerkwater over in the morn- ing, I suppose?” Norman nodded. “ So Blair & Co, are bidding on the irrigation contract, too?” he said. “Oh, yes.” Crawford shrugged carelessly. “ But more as a matter of advertisement than with any hope of landing it. The old man’s got a bug now that our name must be represented at every award. “Not a bad idea, maybe, but it kind of gravels me to be hung up in a dead- and-alive slab like this for nothing, Not even a movie show to go to.” He glanced at the clock again. “What do you say to a game of pi- nochle to pass the time away?” Norman hesitated. He had been planning to retire early and get a good night’s sleep, so as to have a clear head in meeting whatever contingencies might arise on the morrow. Yet here was his opportunity to get Crawford into conversation and pump | him, as Molly Todd had enjoined. So, changing his mind, he assented to the proposal, and a table and cards having been secured, they started to play. Perhaps nothing could have shown more clearly the difference in the char- acters of the two men than the contrast in the way they played the game. Norman was a slow, careful, con- servative player, abiding strictly by the rules, and calculating to a mathemati- cal nicety the chances of every hand before he made his bid; while Craw- ford went at it in slap-dash style, tak- ing utterly unjustifiable risks, and often bringing off a coup by sheer audacity. DOOKS Eomic (E@)