Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 3, 1924 — page 145: what you’re looking at

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

WHAT STEVE ing a wat afid coat’s got anything to do with this job, you can count me out. I’m a fresh air fan, let me tell you, and I don’t believe in’ them—” “You don’t wear any in midwinter?” Watkins exclaimed. “T guess I don’t have to if I don’t want to! I guess a man’s got a right to dress any way that’s best for his health. This is the way I dress. It’s healthy, too! And I like it.” | “You do!” Watkins exclaimed. “Yes, I do—” Watkins turned on the roomful. “ You hear?” he said, delighted. “ Forty years, gentlemen, I’ve been preaching the folly of bundling up the human body in a lot of useless wrapping. Forty years I’ve preached and practiced it—wear the same medium weight clothing winter and sum- mer. No hat in any weather to preserve a healthy scalp. Forty years and here’s the first kindred soul I ever met that had the courage to live up to what I’ve preached. Come in, Mr.—Mr.—” “Mr. Wilder,” Barney supplied. “Come right in, Mr. Wilder! lighted to meet you!”’ I’m de- IV. “Tr’s a great job!” Barney explained eagerly to Belle Crawford that evening. “Tm going to be superintendent of the wagon drivers that peddle Germless ice. I start in to-morrow, and I get fifty dollars a week right at the beginning. And the reason I got it was because Watkins want- ed a husky—-some guy that doesn’t have to bundle all up in an overcoat every time the snow falls—.”’ The door bell rang again. The young policeman stood outside, smiling, over his arm Barney’s brown coat. The young po- liceman had a bigger heart than his lieu- tenant. He had personally been a around to see the judge and got a court order re- leasing the evidence. Belle Crawford turned aside hurriedly to answer the ring at her door. “Wait!” Barney cried, masterfully turn- ing her back. ‘I got something to say to you. Something I got to say right now. BRODIE DID. 985 I—Belle, I—” His voice stuck in his throat. “I haven’t known you very long, Belle,” Barney faltered; ‘“ maybe I’m tak- ing too big a chance—” Belle Crawford smiled at him demurely. “Remember Steve Brodie, Barney,” she prompted. The door bell continued to ring, and no- body answered it. The young policeman, the coat over his arm, turned aside finally, scratching his head. “I’d have sworn I heard somebody in there,” he muttered. ‘“ But, of course, if he don’t want his coat, I should worry!” | V. IT was not snowing when Barney report- ed for work at the offices of the Germless Ice Company Monday morning. It had snowed all Friday, all Saturday, and all Sunday night. The drifts were five feet deep in cross streets. But it did not snow Monday. The sky had frozen so hard that not a flake of snow leaked out. Barney went to work minus overcoat: and hat. Belle had protested with all the fervor of a recently engaged woman trying to win her first big battle. It was no use. ‘“‘T can’t do it!” Barney protested. “‘ Not even for you. It isn’t a matter of false pride at all. Now that I’m one of the fam- ily I’d just as soon borrow the price of a kelly and a benny from you as I would from anybody. That ain’t the point! But if I give in now and wear a coat old Duckworth will know I’m a false alarm and not any snowbird at all. Then he’ll fire me before even I begin! Then I can’t marry you next spring—” ‘“‘ Barney! risk it—” “Steve Brodie took a chance,” Barney retorted, and that ended the argument so far as he was concerned. Barney ran from the subway station to the big ice warehouse down by the river where a sportive sixty miles wind was blow- ing the drifted snow in eddies and whorls. The flakes were flakes no Jonger. Each It’s suicide! You must not particle of snow had become a sharp-edged . cake of ice, and the boreal breeze hurled them in a mighty sandblast. COMIGD OOo! (©