Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 4, 1922 — page 66: what you’re looking at

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

376 In obedience to orders, William Vander- pool Biddle had come to Hobart to stay for quite awhile, although he began to be un- certain whether all the Consolidated Cop- per millions were worth the price. He had been quite unhappy when, upon inquiry from the conductor of the narrow gage, he had learned that there was no train leav- ing Hobart until the following day. William Vanderpool Biddle looked about him hopelessly—and coughed again. The Station agent was busy; the train crew were busy; the only idle individual in sight was & very rough specimen garbed in the cinder-scorched overalls of the smeltermen, who looked with amazement at William’s baggage. “T say,” said William, addressing the idle one. Then again, with emphasis, “ I say—” - The smelterman, huge, uncouth, a quite impossible person, turned, regarding Wil- liam with cold, blue, fishy eyes. ““T say, my good fellow,” said William most politely, once again, ‘ could you di- rect me to a good hotel?” The good fellow looked at William, up and down, from shining boots to nicely creased felt hat. William bore the scrutiny with patience. shifting an enormous cud of tobacco in his jaws. He seemed very stupid. “Well?” asked William, ever patiently. “Naw,” answered the good fellow with a surly grin. He slouched forward, brush- ing the astonished William to one side. “But I say!” exclaimed William, grasp- ing at his hat. Anger succeeded his sur- prise. “Look here now!” William reached out a detaining hand. The smelterman spun on his heel with astounding swiftness for one of such bulk and seeming awkwardness. Thick neck hunched into massive shoulders, he thrust a smoke-grimed face within a half a foot of William’s own. William glimpsed an uneven row of brown-stained teeth beneath. a ragged yellow mustache. “T tal you naw! You want I tal you somet’ing else now, heh?”’ There was no mistaking the intention of this person, quite impossible. He positive- effective repartee. . tion agent with firm intention and as much ~ not help feeling a little superior. The man spat deliberately, - ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. ly meant to be insulting. stepped backward, his feet embarrassed by the luggage pile. Not until the smelterman had grinned his way from the station plat- form could young Biddle recover his wits sufficiently to remember that he owned, at least in prospect, the very ground on which the ruffian stood. Then it was too late for He addressed the sta- dignity as the circumstances would permit. ‘Will you please tell me who that man may be?” ‘““Name o’ Kowalski,’”’ answered the agent. ‘Sort o’ strav-boss with the smel- ter gang.” Young Biddle — “ Thanks,” Sacred William, 7h Soald : ‘* I shall have the pleasure of meeting him again. ‘Baggage will be safe here, I presume?” “Sure,” the agent answered heartily. William might have been mistaken, but he ‘was a little uneasy, not certain that there was not a suppressed grin on the freckled face of the station agent, too. ‘I shall send a conveyance for my things this after- noon,” said William, with increase of dig- nity. Then, unbending momentarily: ‘Seems to be quite an interesting place.” “Sure,” said the agent. There was no mistake about that grin. William stepped from the platform into the road which spurted little geysers of fine red dust, destroying the resplendent polish of William’s boots. The sun was glaring hot on the barren mountainside. William’s face was red; the fresh collar as- sumed just before arrival, already wilting, became uncomfortable about his throat. He kicked at a chunk of crumbling brown and yellow rock that nestled in the road dust. This failed to relieve his temper, but did hurt the kicking foot, and practi- cally ruined the half of a pair of thirty- dollar boots. He drew a deep breath, and coughed again. Twice in one morning Wil- liam Vanderpool Biddle, of Broadway be- tween the Thirties and the Fifties, sought surcease. from annoyance by saying 6c Damn! ” The station agent waved a mocking hand at the retreating back. “‘ My dear Mr. Biddle,” said that wag in joyous respect COL ~ IcloOoOkS. Con