Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 14, 1928 — page 147: what you’re looking at

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

RORK AND BEANS. “ Really, old man,” he returns, “ I’m not engaged in business.”’ “Out of a job, hey?’ I goes on. “ Well, if you ain’t tuned-in on regular coffee and cake money, I couldst use a extry canvasman around the show. This pays thirty bucks the monthly, and the privilege of killing your ap- petite at the grease-joint.”’ “Thanks awfully,” grins this boy scout, “ but to tell the truth, old man, Y’'m not open for any engagements. You see, dad has a dime for every chink in Mongolia, so what would your” “TI wouldn't,” I says, even as you and [. Aiter a few more minutes of ex- changing Whistler wit and wisdom, they stroll away. It was then that I got a slant at the pans of Salty and Bandy. Speaking of a pair of cent- a-piece valentines, you should of seen them ! “Say!” blurts Salty, turning to Bandy, “who’s that clam? One 0’ them land-lubberin’ dandies, and you can lay to that!” “ Shore is, pardner,” replied Bandy. Then, encircling his arm around Salty, he says: ‘‘ Wimmen are prime funny, huh? Er les’ take a stroll around the town!” For the most part of the next day, Joe Striker hung around Bess like cluck mine-promoters around ‘a sucker-list. Whether or not Mr. Striker was the scion of a wealthy pater, you can search me, as the pickpocket says to the cop. But just between us, as the ham re- marked to the sandwich, it was none of my business. A kid-show manager has troubles of his own, don’t fool yourself about that! How the so ever, I did feel the wee trifle sorry for them two dumb-gongs, the cow-chasing Bandy and the sea-go- ing Salty. But as a matter of facts, them Scissor-bills had as much chance of making Queen Bess as I have of wedding Cleopatra. Well, speaking of Cupid, and other , ~ alibi. 285 baloney, the Signor Striker disappeared as suddenly as he had arrived. When I questioned Bess about her new boy friend, she tells me that he was just a old school chum and—would it be pos- sible for me to mind my own business? | Several days later, whilst we showed a town with the suggestive name of Hanghigh, Salty and Bandy got to sparring again. In fact, just as soon as they were sure that Joe Striker had departed hence, both began playing for the attention of Bess. Far as I was concerned, I was hop- ing that either one or the other beezark wouldst cop the cutey, which same would give me some peace. You have no idea, ladies and gents, how love can mar the even tenor of a side-show’s ways! The second day at Hanghigh I dis- covered a new twist to Salty Rork. My hotel room adjoined his, and the partition was as thin as a bootlegger’s Honest, a married lad would have a hell of a time keeping the family battle wholly within the family. Anyways, after we had sloughed for the day, Bandy takes a stroll around town, whilst Salty sneaks up to the room. I happen to retire the wee bit early myself, otherwise I would not of been let in on the comedy of the century. Although Salty and Bandy still roomed together they got along like arsenic on tripe. When the show closed for the day, Bandy went one way and Salty the other. No fooling, from the way they picked on one an- other, a stranger would think they were married ! Well, to return to our bone, as Fido remarked, [ was about to reel off a cruel snore, when I was aroused by the voice of Salty via the partition. “Beans, old boy,” says the sailor, “you and me have been through fair weather and foul. And, I ask you, ain’t Salty always give you the best hard-tack, and everythin’? Answer me that, you son-of-a-squarker !’’ Gomichbooks (E@)