Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 4, 1922 — page 29: what you’re looking at

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

face, trembling in the knees, walked with an effort at nonchalance into the office of Tom Andrews, chief of police. “The bull—I mean the officer—said you wanted to see me, chief.” Andrews ran a glowering eye over the somewhat frayed but faultlessly pressed attire of the youth. “ Young man,” the chief’s voice rumbled, “ I’ve got you on my list. We’re going to make it blistering hot for the vagrants in this town. What ye going to do about it?” Gibbs’s eyes shifted slightly under the baleful stare of the officer. Nevertheless, he managed to smile, weakly but engaging- ly. “You know I’m no vagrant, chief. You know my dad—” Andrews’s,heavy fist struck the desk with a bang. ‘ You betcher life I know your dad. It’s a wonder he don’t wring your neck—him working ten hours a day in the machine shops and supporting you in your laziness. Why don’t you go to work your- self for a change?” “T do work,” Chester Gibbs’ asserted, running a trembling hand over his well- brushed hair. ‘‘ I—” ‘“Work! Don’t hand me that. You lay around day and night in Walker’s pool hall. Call that work?” Cites, GIBBS, dead white in the Robert lerry Shannon ‘“ Pool—pocket billiards—that’s only a recreation with me.” ‘“ Recreation!” boomed the chief. ‘ All you do is recreate. How’d you like some real recreation—on the rock pile, hey?” Chester’s voice shook. “I got a busi- ness.” ‘You bum.” “I’m the agent for the Chicago Suit Club. You pay fifty cents a week for forty weeks, and when you're paid up, along next August, you get a fine Shantung China silk suit. Besides, we have drawings every four weeks, and you might win a suit free, even if you'd only paid m a couple of dollars or SO.’ A sudden gleam of interest -atewed in the chief’s eye. At base he was a prudent, economical man; something in the propo- sition hit him. Perhaps it was the earnest brevity of Chester Gibbs. Chief Andrews scented a bargain. Momentarily he forgot hisgstern purpose. _“ Say—maybe that ain’t a bad scheme. I might need a cool suit next summer. They any good?” The normal color came back to the cleanly chiseled face of the boy. The im- mature enthusiasm of a born salesman flamed in his gaze. got a _ profession—professional 339 cCOmiclbooks.Gonmn