Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 23, 1924 — page 133: what you’re looking at

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

<> By ERIC D. = ELL, Silver King, whad daya say \ , / dey?” ‘““Whad daya say dey you’ self?”’ “ Oh, I ain’t hollerin’.” ‘“ Say, seen ‘that sparring partner 0’ mine up in the glory hole?” “ Dat boy? Oh, man, he is de good-fer- nothingest, laziest coon I evah seen in mah whole life.” For reply the Silver King relocked the ship’s silver chest and started up the saloon deck. Chest thrown back, tall, black, ma- jestic, the Silver King, a Mississippi rousta- bout, walked with the dignity befitting a man of his nautical station. More than any other member of the crew—a pvlyglot con- glomeration of West Indians, Africans, East Indians, Chinese, Mexicans, Ecuadoreans— he was physically and metaphysically best suited for his treasure hoarding job. As guardian of the ship’s silver and basking in the sunlight of the grandiloquent title of 291 WALROND 3 ‘ Silver King,” it devolved on him to hand out to the waiters and stewards at mealtime the sterling cups and dishes and knives and forks and sheeny platters. In this he ruled like a tyrant. Not even the chief steward, a stern, silent Scotchman, dared interfere with the autocratic rulings of the Silver King. In the domain of the ship’s silver chest he was truly and rigidly lord of all he surveyed. At tea-time, for instance, if a waiter dared, one minute after the Silver King had finished polishing up and storing away the silver, to put a stray fork or spoon or knife on the Silver King’s table, it was the same as if an Eura- sian infidel had had the audacity to violate the sacred sepulcher of Mohammed. ‘““ Say, where dat spoon come from at?” ‘Oh, I just picked it up—” “Well, lissen, pardner, dis joint shets down at six—-six sharp—and lissen, pardner, I gots orders from de boss not to recept nothin’ from nobody no time atter that. ECORMICLOOO© (E@)