Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 123, No. 4 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

BING, BANG, BOOM! The older man snorted. “‘ Impossi- ble’ is a darn good word not to have in your vocabulary. When somethin’ looks impossible to you, it may not look the same to somebuddy else. An ostrich sticks his head in the ground and thinks it’s impossi- ble fer anybuddy to see him, jest b’cause he can’t see nobuddy hisself. But unless -we stick our heads in the ground, too, why we kin see the ostrich jest the same. You're gonna stay here in Selma and fight it out with Turner, ain’t you?”’ “IT expect to.” You ain’t gonna holler quits as soon as he starts to git in some dirty work, are you?” “‘ Say,” cried Bert, “‘ what’s the idea of all these questions, anyway?” “The idea of. any question is to git a civil answer,’’ said the man, studying Bert. “The only way to git to know a man is to talk with him. Looks don’t count fer much, exceptin’ to fool you. I’ve known folks to have gaid: ‘What a purty vine that is. Reckon I'll pick some to take home ’—and they have a rash on their hands the rest o’ their lives.” ‘“* Well, what in the world—” “I’m through,” said the station-master. He walked to the door; then paused, his hand on. the knob. “Once there was a smart Aleck lion got caught in a net, and with all his durn smartness, he couldn’t move hand nor foot. Along ceme a mouse he didn’t think wu’th spittin’ at. Soon’s the lion had swallered enough of his pride, he asked the mouse to lend a hand, and the mouse got him out. Ever hear that story?” | “¢ Sure,” replied Bert, mystified. ‘‘ What about it?” | “ Nothin’,” said the station-master; and CHAPTER III. " SHADOWS IN THE NIGHT. HORTLY after dinner—which was the mid-day meal in Selma—Bert recalled Fred Patterson’s invitation, and hur- ried over to the office of The Punch. Be- fore he could follow the young editor’s ad- a o23 vice and put himself on guard in the fray into which he had flung himself, he must definitely determine whom he should con- sider friends and whom enemies; and there was one man whom he was unable to place in either category. - That man was the quaint station-master, with his bizarre apparel and his equally bizarre boorishness, who took such an un- usual interest in Bert’s affairs, and made statements seemingly so irrelevant and yet carrying the impression of vital importance. ““ He’s got me going,’ confessed Bert. ‘‘T don’t know whether to trust him or to fear him. He’s the strangest man I ever met.” . Fred laughed. ‘Oh, you’ll get used to him in time. He has a way of mystifying everybody he speaks to. You can talk with him for ten minutes and not under- stand a word he says to you. But if you go into a corner, after he’s gone, and think hard, everything he meant to tell you will slowly unfold itself to you. Everything he says means something; he doesn’t waste a word.” ‘“‘T haven’t been able to figure out the meaning of what he said to me,” said Bert. “Tl have to think about it sometime more, I suppose.” “Well,” said Fred slowly, “as long as you're an enemy of Turner’s, you can count on David Hodge as a friend. He — hates Turner like poison—and with good reason. Turner gave him an awful lot of trouble. Why, to look at him, you wouldn’t believe that he was once one of the stoutest men in Selma, would you?”’ {4 No! ”? , “‘ Absolutely. He was not alone stout, but he was fat. He had two chins, and everything else in proportion.” | Bert recalled his first impression of the station-master. Somehow, he could picture that gaunt, bony man increased to plump- ness. : “What did it?” he asked. ‘“ Worry?” ““T suppose so. Lord knows, Turner gave him enough of it. You see, less than ten years ago, he was a prosperous man, a widower who lived with his daughter on a fine farm just west of here. Then, somehow or other, he got in Turner’s debt, Original froma THE ¢ =) (C DOOK CO