Argosy All-Story Weekly, March 15, 1924 — page 48: what you’re looking at

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

676 _ “ Mercy me, how rude you are!” *Lije wails. “ What have I ever done to you, Jimmie?” ‘“ Cheated me,” Jimmie states. ‘* Ch-cheated you?” ° “ Ch-ch-cheated me,” says Jimmie. — Well, old "Lije had been in business for . a long time,.and he had had to deal with. all sorts of people. He don’t need no ton of brick to fall on him to diagnose Jim- mie’s case—or at least he thinks he don’t, which amounts to the same thing. “ Now, now, Jimmie,” he says, “ we will talk this matter over. How much a week am I payin’ you now?” | “T’ll give you three guesses,’ Jimmie enswels, “though one ought to be one too many.” . - Ves, yes,” "Lije says. “ Twenty-two dollars a week, Why; that ain’t a bad sal- ary for a young man, Jimmie. At your age I worked for eight. You own your own home and you got money in~the bank. You ought to get along fine, just fine.” “Yeh,” says Jimmie, icy, “the fact that T ov.n my own home and have a little money ought to accrue to your benefit, oughtn’t it? You old skinner!” _ “Now, now, Jimmie, hard names ain’t no good. Let us—” “T know hard names ain’t no good,” - Jimmie says, gettin’ up. “A hard fist in _ the pit of your tummy might be better.” He gives one hop and lands in front of ’Lije swinging his fist. ‘Lije is paralyzed, ossified, pertrified, turned to stone, a roly-poly statue in a gro- cery store. _ Jimmie stands grinning down at him, a grin that drew his lips back from -his teeth im no very pleasant way. “ Shall I give you the solar plexus wal- lop?” he demands. “God help me!” Lije’ s whisper goes through the store like a thin, fine “wind. I think he ex- . pected the wallop all right, for he kind of scrunched down to keep his stomach out of harm’s way. _ “ Jimmie,” he pleads, “ let us reason to- gether. If you are seeking a raise in wages, I will give it to you. { will give you twenty- four dollars a week.” [ee ? ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Jimmie’s hand unclenched and he give a kind of flump down, drawing his own self together, like he had got a Knockout and was trying to stay on his feet. I knowed of course that he was only mocking ol’ Lije. “Let me pass, vain old man,” he says. “ Let me pass ere I forget myself and strike you down.” - Lije let him pass all right, but as Jimmie reached the door he whispers in that strange "new voice of his: “ Twenty-six a week, Jim- mie. Twenty-six.” In the doorway Jimmie flung up his hands and raised his eyes to the top of the door. ‘“‘ Never, vain old man,” he cries. ‘‘ Never in this world or in the world to come.” Then he goes out. . "Lije sat down. ‘They say he sat there most of the forenoon, not noticing nobody. I lit out after Jimmie and caught him. “Where away, Jimmie?” I asks. “To that den of iniqvity, the pool room,’ Says Jimmie. “ There I will sqnaaier my substance in riotous living.” Well, do you know, I couldn’ t quite figure that lad out just then? Seemed like he was just suffering from a kidding streak,’ and yet there was something cold and hard . _ beneath the surface. I had a notion that he might do something serious before the day was over, and I decided to stick with him. “Come along with me, Mr. Tom Hill,” he says, “‘ and watch me clean up that pool — room gang.” “Why, Jimmie,” I objects, “ there 1s a bunch of sharks amongst them boys. They _will beat you to pieces. They'll let you win _ a game or two and then they will get you | to gambling and clean you out.” “Won't that be sad?” says Jimmie. When we went into the pool room, there was Ike Miller sitting in one of the chairs ranged up against the wall for the loungers. . Things couldn’t have happened worse. Ike had always kept about three steps ahead of me and my jail. I knowed he was a bootlegger, but couldn’t prove it. I knowed he was a gambler, but couldn’t prove it. I -knowed he was a sneak, and could prove that to my own satisfaction, no court -of law being required. “= COMIC DOO <SaEO) (