Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 5, 1928 — page 86: what you’re looking at

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

652 ‘When do we eat?’ demanded Chip- munk. “It’s past my dinner time, and my tummy is making a disturbance about it. Did you get a good look at that skipper? What a sweet, jolly jack tar he is. Nails for breakfast every morning, and for lunch he eats lobster shells. An appeal to his better nature would be fruitless, I ween.” Lester got up from his chair and moved restlessly round. “ A steel door, no windows, steel floor and walls,’’ he stated. ‘“‘ Old Houdini could never get out of this. We're here as long as they need us. Arthur, try to dope out what they want us for?” “My head aches now. ventilator isn’t working. a date with Hilda Brinker. an outrage!” Despite himself . Les chuckled. “ She’ll forgive you when she learns the facts. I had an engagement with Nora myself.” “That’s the girl you won't intro- duce me to. You'll have to now, to add verisimilitude to a bald and uncon- vincing narrative.” Les groaned. “ I wonder if I'll ever see poor little Nora again? If we were not so completely in the dark. Arthur, do you realize that neither of us has a family to worry about us. If we don’t keep our engagements the girls will just suppose we have got tired of them, and they will dismiss us from their minds.”’ “Old Ludwig Brinker won't lose any sleep if I stop calling on Hilda,” said Colter. ‘‘ He doesn’t admire me much. And the police won't get ex- cited if a couple of hot-dog men van- ish off the face of the earth. Les, if we get out of here it will be because we've rescued ourselves. Nobody will look for us. “ Now, if we were married, our wives would be calling the hospitals if we were half an hour late for dinner. ‘A man ought to be married, Les. He owes it to himself in case of accidents like this. My Lord, I’m hungry. ’m IT bet that Say, I had This. is ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. so hungry I could eat what they prob- ably serve on this bad-smelling tub. Have you noticed the aroma of oil?” “It wouldn't be a bad idea to find out how we stand here,” Les declared. “Pm goingeup and pound on the door to see what happens.” . He ascended the stairs and began to batter with his fist against the steel panel of the door. It gave off a re- sounding clang. ‘Not very thick steel plates,’’ com- mented Colter from below. “I'll be hungry enough pretty soon to bite through them.” After a few minutes he heard foot- steps in the cabin, and then a harsh voice close to the door: “Get down that ladder and stay be- low if you want grub.” “Yes, sir,’ cried Les, who went down the ladder making all the noise he could. They heard the door open and some- thing was laid on the steps, then the door closed. Chipmunk beat him to the ladder, and came down bearing a tin dipper in each hand. “Some kind of stew,” he stated. “Looks awful. I don’t dare smell it.” “No knives or forks or spoons. Are we supposed to drink it?” Arthur set the dippers on the floor and gazed at them mournfully. “ Superiority of mind over matter,” he remarked. “‘I’m not as hungry as I was.” The two pots of stew gave forth a thin wisp of steam. “We know they do not intend to starve us to death,” Lester said. “ And I suppose that stuff will taste worse when it is cold than it does now. What do you guess it is?” “Don’t ask,” warned Colter who lifted one dipper to his mouth. “ It’s nasty and greasy, but I think it is mut- ton stew.” _ A stew is both the most difficult and the easiest dish to concoct; a cordon bleu can make of it something notable; COPMICLOOO KS (C@)