Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 28, 1928 — page 125: what you’re looking at

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

A SWELL HIDING PLACE. The young man, now at ease, laughed. “I gota jolly good shot of liquor, but I’m blessed if ’'m going to hand it over. On the level, officer, we're not gunmen or anything like that. There must be some mistake about it.” “T admit y’ don’t look like crooks,” Poley told him. “ But that don’t mean nothin’. Who be ye, if y’ care t’ say an’ are prepared to prove it? An’ what be ye doin’ here ?”’ “We're from Tom’s Lake and we're on a treasure hunt?” “Treasure hunt! That stacks up with what I thought. Here! Jes’ keep them han’s up. What d’ye mean, treasure hunt?” The young man burst out laughing. “You tell him, Jo,” he bade the girl. Whereupon the young woman briefly and concisely explained the principles of that exciting pastime. She finished with: “We ought to be able to prove it, because I think this is where the treasure lies—two hundred dollars in gold. Will you let me look, Mr. Of- ficer? Please! Because the others will be along any minute, and we want to win.” “Go ahead. But mind y’r step. I’ve got my eye on ye.” Under the flash lights, the gold prize presently came to light, neatly hidden in a pocket behind a beam. None too soon, either, for two more cars flashed up, each disgorging a girl and her escort. The losers wailed and the win- ners exulted. And it was while this was going on that Jim Creeper proved himself the worthy assistant Poley had hoped he would be. ‘“ A swell place to hide that there treasure,” Jim had murmured, idly running his hand along the pocket THE U Le} 559 where the gold coins had lain. “ Gosh! What's this?” Before their astonished eyes, he drew out a handful of miscellaneous jewelry—a _ collection that Poley in- stantly recognized would check quite accurately with Editor Pitts’s famous list. But Jim seemed not so much im- pressed by that as by something else he held in his hand—something that presently caused him to burst into loud guffaws. “Oh, gorry!” he yelled. ‘“ This is adandy. Ikin see it all’s plain as day, now. See them!” He held aloft two black feathers. “Looks like part of a crow’s tail,” Poley offered. “ An’ that’s jes’ what it is, too. Part of that pet crow of Doc Shultz’st You know him, Poley.”’ “sure do,’ said Poley.“ “Say! say! By the Lord Harry!’ “Can’t you see him?’ demanded Jim. “Can’t you git it all. Summer time—windows open—the doc’s crow great collector of shiny things. Finds a swell place to hide them, roosts by ’em nights. Up sneaks Pitts—crow says “urk’ or somethin’ an’ Clem blazes away. Naturally he’s li’ble t’ git a bite took outen his mush! Oh, gorry! Friar! =-Hatt-Har!” And echo, aided by numerous voices, answered, “Har! Har! Har!’ To this day, Poley has the original drawing that appeared in the follow- ing week’s Republican. Editor Pitts, wildly discharging a blunderbuss into the air, while a splendid likeness of Dr. Shultz’s pet centers a stunning at- tack on the aggressor’s left cheek. Title: A Certain Editor Discovers Clews—and Claws! END Le] Next week’s Complete Novelette, “ The Train Expecter,” by Laurance M. Hare, author of the Scrub Smith tales, makes you so well acquainted with Johnny Webster and his problems that you are keenly eager to find out how he fares with the bold project he attempts to put over. (e(0) vOOK (E@)