Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 3, 1924 — page 170: what you’re looking at

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

960 “Why, er, yes, I think there was. Thanks.” She took the bill and passed out. ‘So that’s it,” said Shorty Allen, facing the patient sternly. ‘‘ Save a gal’s life in a runaway, make a hero of yourself and then try to hide your light under a bushel. What was she, an heiress or an actress? But no matter, heiress I'll make it. That’s a fine way to hold out on me after I’ve been telegraphing Larabee what a hero you’ve been at the show all week. Afraid May'll know about this, eh. Why, you big ham, this is the best advertising you could have. I wouldn’t be surprised if she —but not matter. I’m on my way. It’s almost show time. I'll be up right after it’s over.” He passed out leaving a speechless and thunderstruck sick man in his wake. V. SLIM was out of bed limping about five days later when the door to his room was suddenly pushed ajar and there stood May Markins, in her wake her aunt from Lar- abee. “Slim.” He heard his name, was then engulfed in two soft arms and kissed plumb on the mouth. “Slim, I’m awfully sorry. Will you forgive me? I’ve been terribly mean to you and now you’ve well, you’ve turned out so wonderful, Slim.” “Oh, we know all about it,” spoke up her aunt. She produced a cliping from a Larabee newspaper, stepped forward and presented it to Slim. He was amazed to see his photograph and a glowing account of how he had rescued an heiress in Central Park. She had, it seemed fallen in love with him on the spot, sent him flowers to the hospital and requested her father to take the cowboy into business with him. Slim wanted to ask where Central Park was located, also other questions, but he desisted, realizing that to do so would be to betray that love schemer, Shorty Allen. “Tt was awful big of you, Slim.” May was talking. “ What was?” He looked up, surprised. “To wire me to come after having such an experience. It seems to me if I had a ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. chance to marry a rich girl I wouldn’t be sending away out to Texas for—” ‘“* May,” said Slim, posing a movie close- up with the young lady in his arms. He stopped helpless. “T will,” said the girl, “ and right away too. I’m afraid, Slim dear, you’ve been runnin’ wild in this here town.” Shorty Allen was best man two days later, Aunt Clara Markins bridesmaid. They were married in the Little Church Around the Corner from which they moved to Fifth Avenue. ‘“ Here,” said Shorty to Slim as he pre- pared to step with his bride on a motor bus to sightsee the great metropolis. He handed the slim groom an envelope. “ Just a little gift for the hero,” he said, winking at the bride. ‘Does this go by Central Park?” May asked the conductor. It did. Cuddled by her husband on top of the bus, a few minutes later May whispered shyly: I want you to show me where you saved her, you old hero!” Slim blushed. To hide his embarrass- ment he slipped out the envelope Shorty had given him and opened it on the aisle side out of sight of his bride. He wondered if the little cowboy had given him a check for a wedding gift. They were approaching the Fifty-Ninth Street entrance to the park as Slim tore open the envelope. In it re- posed a clipping from a New York news- paper. One glance and Slim blushed a fiery crimson, then tore it into bits and scattered them to the winds. It would never have done for Mrs. Cesar A. Watson to have seen that clipping. On it was printed in blackface type: COWBOY RUN OVER BY WEST STREET HORSE CAR. Rodeo Hero, Bane of Steers, Mark for Decrepit Street Car Plugs. Goes to Hospital. “Where was it you saved her, dear?” asked Mrs. Watson, tugging fondly at her husband’s left arm, as the bus moved along by the park. “* Really, dear,” said a harassed cowboy, “ TI wouldn’t know the spot if I saw it.” 10 A comniiclooo! (©