Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 3, 1924 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

SUNDOWN CAFE. The anticipation of his duty seemed to bring Herzog out of his trance. Yes, there were nearer, more serious dangers than those intangible fears he felt concerning the dis- tamt sea. Here was some work for him to do—some work that might entail bloodshed. “Tf he’s givin’ trouble, why don’t you dope him?” Herzog asked petulantly. ‘“ Like as not I’ll get another knife acrost my neck like when Grimpen was here.” Without listening to the long gush of abuse from Cora’s mouth he hobbled into the café and hid behind the bar, Once in this sanctum the innkeeper con- jured up nerve enough to pop his head barely over the mahogany rim and to find himself in the presence of a huge red face, pasty hair and sweet smelling pomade. The innkeeper thought it best to lead up to the business at hand—the business of bouncing this peculiar, sweet smelling giant—by dip- lomatic methods. “Will you have a drink on the house, pard?” he asked with a sickly smile. The other smiled back, revealing large teeth. “ You’re just the man I want to see,” the fellow said. This retort could be taken as having sev- eral possible meanings, and little Herzog was not certain just how to answer. He stammered: “ What will it be, pard?” ‘Tye been lookin’ al] over for you,” the other went on, “and I must say that if you're the host of this here den of cock- roaches you ought to be stuffed into a sweat box until you scream bloody murder.” This salutation gave the host his nerve. He had always found that for some reason he could deal with quarrelsome patrons by back firing. “ A fine cause you got coming in here and making fun of a poor ole man!” “But just to look at you,” the other laughed, revealing two more teeth in his hilarity, ‘“‘ makes me crazy. I never did see such a little wharf rat dealing out liquor from a Mexican jug in all my days on sea or land. What is this poison you’re pouring into me? Dope, I’ll bet—aye? Somethin’ to burn my belly! I suppose you think you can drop me with a little slug like this and then turn me over the port authorities for a stiff, tellin? °em you found me floatin’ in 805 the bayou? Well, I'll show you how much afraid I am of dope! Ain’t no dope ever mixed can drop me.” He tossed off the drink, wiped his mouth with the back of a hairy paw, then waited. standing upright as if expecting an onset of vertigo and sleepiness. He blinked his eyes. It seemed to have the opposite effect; for after belching comfortably, he looked down at the little innkeeper again and laughed. ‘“What did I tell you, mine host? I can stow away anything you give me and feel ten times more like socking somebody on the old button.” Herzog held his breath. “* Now let me tell you why I am looking for you.” The innkeeper stepped backward toward his shelves of bottles, ollas and Mexican drinks. But the other leaned across the bar. He was so near that Herzog got a strong whiff of the sweet pomade full in the face. The guest went on in a different voice: “‘T’ve lost my berth. I’m a mariner with- out a ship. I understand you’re a boarding master. Now is your chance to prove it. You get me a job. Don’t care what it is. T’ll holystone hell itself if I have to. But one thing I won’t do. I won’t leave this lodging house until you fix me up!”’ The other was nonplused. He stared at ‘his guest in a manner which suggested the fascination of a bird for a snake, All the other lights in that little café were obliter- ated. It happened that the place itself was empty of guests. They had, as old Cora had announced, been frightened away, every mother’s son of them. The lights were still burning, ill-smelling oil lamps that had never been cleaned. The tables were still covered with beer suds; the floor was strewn thickly with a carpet of sawdust, tobacco cuds and butts, with pigeons strutting pompously about picking at bits of rve bread and cheese. The mechanical piano seemed about to break to pieces in an at- tempt to render “ La Paloma.” Cora Herzog, hiding in an alcove, glared like a puma from the darkness of a cage. The sheen of her eyes flashed out green over black. All these details, however, were wiped COMIC OOo! (©