Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 6, 1923 — page 51: what you’re looking at

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

SO THIS Crackenthorpe, a victim of hard times and harder cider whom he had grinned at for his rube outfit and small-town philosophy, proved to have spent three years on end without touching ground; and he had pros- pected for gold in Alaska, and been ar- rested in Whitechapel besides. He knew of places that were not even mentioned in the geographies. And there were others; three children had been born aboard ship. Two had been round the world. The Slapper consoled himself by the reflection that, after all, his home city had everything they could find in any clime. But he lost some of his cockiness, none the less. One night Letty seemed to have dressed a little more elaborately than usual. Noth- ing classy, of course, like the skirts back home; but fluffy, sort of, with a nice blue ribbon threaded in her hair, and a sash to match. Her best shoes, too. Stubby toed, though, and funny low heels. But he liked her in the make-up. When, about half past seven the bell be- van to ring, she rose primly. ‘Would you like to go to church with me?” she asked. “Church? What for? He wondered. “Tt is the regular Thursday evening meeting,” she had explained. “ But don’t go unless you want to.” ~ “Sure!” he agreed. “Idon’t mind. Try anything once!” ‘Don’t you ever go when you’re home?” “Veah. Easters, ’most always. And to funerals. But never at night before.” The street was mildly populated. Soli- tary old men and women, couples, small family parties, all wending toward the old meeting house. As they passed the general store, the usual gang of village youths were loitering about. They made remarks as the different worshipers passed; rough laughter trailed after them. There was a conspicu- ous silence as-the Slapper went by with Letty; but one had scowled at them, his large mouth set in a tight line. The Slap- per wondered what was eating him. “ That’s Micah Shelby,” Letty told him when they were out of earshot. “ He is bad. Always provoking a fight with some one. The boys are all afraid of him.” 3 A ’Tain’t Sundav!” IS WEDLOCK! 833 ‘Who? That big zany?” ‘“ He’s terrible strong. He’s licked every boy—or man, too—who would stand up to him. He’s sort of a leader.” The Slapper glanced back. He hadn’t noted him particularly. The bad boy stood on the edge of the sidewalk, staring after them. He was big boned, a little round shouldered, with enormous hands dangling from very long arms. His head seemed small in comparison with the great hulking body. ‘“ He stands too close to the ground,” the Slapper decided, Outside the church door another group of young men lounged. They watched the girls, who were giggling in a subdued man- ner, or with eyes demurely downcast; and one or two edged shamefacedly forward and went in with their own particular “ sweetie.” Whereupon his fellows jeered him in hoarse undertones, and nudged one another in the ribs. Later on, after the service had begun, the remaining males entered and took the rear seat, from which vantage point they indulged in furtive pranks, keeping hands busy, but with faces set in pretended seri- ousness. They were a trial to the old sex- ton who was present to keep order. They never did anything so openly that he could identify the offender. They were the sons of pious folk, standing between the frank outlaws who never went to church at all, and those who never missed going. Letty piloted her escort to a modest seat about halfway down the aisle. The place did not seem to him in the least like a church. It didn’t smell familiar, There were no candles. Lights were oil lamps with tin reflectors set against the side walls. Long settees served for seats; the meeting was held in the vestry. A red-headed girl seated herself at a small organ, whose valves she worked industriously with her feet, while she pulled fussily at the various stops; vox humana, clarinet, chimes. In a moment the minister rose from his seat on a low plat- form at the end of the hall, and uttered the opening prayer. Then he announced a hymn. After which ensued a prolonged silence, mysterious to the Slapper. Presently from a dim corner rose a quav- ering voice. An old man had started a GOmiGdoo (©