Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 3, 1924 — page 89: what you’re looking at

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

EDITH IN THE Shirt squatted at the base of the tree, his back resting against its trunk. Silence began to settle over the scene. Héat waves glimmered above the seemingly endless ocean of sand. Only the mild swish of a little breeze could be heard as it rippled the foliage of the Joshua tree; the gentle sound mingled softly with the crunch of burro teeth when Versus, by accident, struck a knot in the wood she was chewing. Thousands of feet high, in the cloudless sky, a buzzard wheeled in ever-widening loops: ‘Good gosh ‘Imighty!” Solemn Johnson emitted the agonized yell, humped his back and began clawing esperately at his shirt, in the region of the vertebra, where a chiropractor punches to treat the pleurisy. ‘“ My Gawd, drag it out—” As if in answer to Solemn’s urgent appeal, a small horntoad, possibly two inches in diameter, with serrated edges, slid from under his collar, sped across the back of his neck, leaped lightly to the ground, glanced calmly around and blinked. “Well, of all things!” Dirty Shirt ex- claimed, “‘ who’d ’a’ thought she could have got up there that quick?” Solemn glared at Dirty Shirt. ‘Tl kill that cussed horntoad, if you don’t take care of her!” he spluttered. “Here, ‘Edith,’” Dirty Shirt called, lifting the horntoad from the blanket, ‘come here before he gets mad! ‘But of all things!” he repeated, admir- ingly. “It wasn’t two seconds ago I saw Edith start up your pants leg and before you can say ‘scat’ she comes out at the top of your neck!” ‘You saw her start up my pants lege And didn’t interfere?” Solemn choked. “JT saw her start up it,” Dirty Shirt erinned, ‘“‘and in less than a flop and a half of a flea’s wing she arrives at the base of your brain! Do you know what I think?” Dirty Shirt spoke now in an awed whisper; ‘I honestly believe Edith is the fastest horntoad this side of Los Angeles—” “And do you know what I think?” Solemn broke in. ‘ You fossilized old red- whiskered horntoad chaperon? Well, I think Edith is goin’ to be the deades/ damn SEVENTH OASIS. 879 horntoad on both sides of Los Angeles, if you don’t’ keep her tied up when I’m tryin’ to take a nap!” ‘“Don’t be so contrary!” Dirty Shirt laughed. ‘““What do you want to keep a blamed thing like that for, anyhow?” Solemn growled, “the idea of a man your age packin’ a horntoad around in his pocket!” Dirty Shirt flared up at once: “You know where I got that horntoad?”’ he replied spiritedly, “I got her out at Dead Angel Mountain!” ‘* Yes, two months ago,’’ Solemn sneered, ““and ever since—’’ “And you know why I got her,” Dirty Shirt snapped, “you know I got her to cure my indigestion! You know very well that since I’ve been carryin’ Edith, my in- digestion ain’t bothered me hardly at all. A horntoad’s a darned sight better for indi- gestion than that buckeye you’ve been pack- in’ for twenty years is for rheumatism! ”’ ** Aw, hell!”’ Solemn grunted, contemptu- ously, ‘ There’s some sense to a buckeye, but a dadblasted horntoad—” “You keep your buckeye, and I’ll keep my horntoad!”’ Dirty Shirt interrupted, heatedly. ‘“ In addition to Edith curin’ my indigestion, I’m goin’ to train her to make her the champion runnin’ horntoad of the world. I'll show some of them Red Bluff sports what a horntoad that’s a streak of greased lightnin’ on a race track can do!” ‘In future don’t train her up my pants leg,” Solemn warned ominously. “ I'll give you notice to that!” “Yes,” Dirty Shirt flung back, “ and when Edith is notorious as the greatest racin’ horntoad ever exhibited, vou’ll be braggin’ because you was acquainted with her once and you'll be sneakin’ around tryin’ to get bets on her! That’s what I’m givin’ you notice of, you old squinty-eved centipede squasher!”’ Edith merely snuggled in Dirty Shirt’s hand while he tickled her ribs. Red Bluff was in fit mood for horntoad racing when Solemn Johnson and Dirty Shirt Smith the following afternoon ap- proached the front entrance of Saloon Number Seven, popularly known as the comniclsoo! (©