Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 123, No. 3 — page 226: what you’re looking at

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

508 alternately sleeping and screaming whenever they have any wore to do. Reaching this den of graft, we found half the Moors in town gathered there, making a very bedlam of noise. Resting on the counter, with a tag on it addressed to Steve, was a motor-cycle. At once we understood the excitement. As there are no streets, only crooked al- leyways, in Tangier, no such thing as a motor-cycle or an automobile is ever seen there. The mule, the donkey, and the horse are supreme. Obviously, the motor-cycle was a new one on the natiye populace. In Spanish, the head fat boy asked what this shipment was. “My friend,” Steve replied, “Iam sur- prised at your ignorance. This is a new war engine which I am thinking of pre-. senting to the local government—if I can find it. Let me show you how the thing works! ” | Steve had found that there was plenty of gas in the tank, so, slipping the stand under the rear wheel, he jumped to the seat and let her go. The Moors also went, flying for their lives. Then we got the machine down and wheeled it outside. The head fat boy, in a sort of graft agony, screwed up his courage and ap- proached. “It is indeed a wonderful gun engines,” he said, “and Allah will love thee—the duty is fifty dollars.” Steve looked at me. “‘ Bill,” he said, “I was just going to be nice and give the old boy a ride, but now I'll beat it up to the Kasbah and tell the governor to put him in- the can—look out!”’ And Steve and the motor-cycle shot away from there. I don’t know how he did it on those unpaved and sandy alleyways, but I watched him wind and shoot up the Kas- bah hill, Moors, mules and donkeys scat- tering to right and left. The fat boy was left cursing Steve and screaming many things to Allah. I wandered into the Spanish café to await the results of the morning’s various excite- ments. In about half an hour I heard a riot drawing near, and Steve and the motor- cycle shot up to the café, the entire native population of Tangier panting in the rear. “T’ve fixed the duty mess with his ~ ‘ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “He In fact, he wants it so bad that I left him sobbing like a child because he can’t buy it right away— nobs, the governor,” said Steve. wants the machine himself! he is broke. He offered me a sacred camel and a Koranic charm against fleas for it, but I explained to him that as much as I valued camels, especially sacred ones, and longed for a charm against fleas, nothing but cash would give me any real pleasure. Then he — implored me to wait only three days, and he would give me three hundred dollars for it!” “‘ Look here,” I asked, “ will you explain how this motor-cycle has dropped from the heavens? How did you come by it—and couldn’t you think of anything more use- less here? You could have sent for a pair of ice skates—” “Don’t try to be funny,” said Steve. “TI simply forgot to tell you. I got it for a song from an English army man over in Gib last week.. He needed the money. But now—about his nobs. Don’t you see the unexpected possibilities of this motor- cycle which you sneer at? In three days the governor will give me three hundred bones for it. Don’t you see, Bill—when Gibilo, alias Hamzah—returns with the taxes of Azila, his nobs the governor will have a bunch of change to spend on a few little things for himself, one of which will be a motor-cycle!” * Well,” I admitted, “ it does look pretty good— it’s almost too easy. We had better - stow the machine away in a safe place while we are away at Azila—though what we can accomplish in Azila-is beyond me.” “* Bill,” said Steve, leaning back wearily, “T really think your upper works are as much congealed as Gibilo’s! We are going to Azila more than ever before. And this motor-cycle is gaing right along with us. It’s a good thing that I appointed myself business manager of our travels, or I fully believe you would starve to death. Haven't you been here long enough to know that a Moor wilt Sell his soul for a new toy? Don’t you remember the holy man who mortgaged his harem for a phonograph? “‘T have a hunch that the most profitable market for motor-cycles just now is the village of Azila. I am feeling quite an. in- (E1DOO Origin al fre KEONM KS ‘i CO THE O 10 TE UN