Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 3, 1924 — page 91: what you’re looking at

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

EDITH IN THE * T estimate Edith to be the suddenest horn- toad there is! She’s the derby winner of the horntoad turf, and I’ll back her against any racin’ horntoad in existence! I figure,” he went on defiantly, “ that Edith can run from one end of this bar to the other in three seconds, flat; in addition, I’m willin’ to gamble, unlimited, that there ain’t no horntoad extant that can pass Edith en route!” It was a definite challenge, wide-openly made. ‘“]—I—-beg your pardon!” the total stranger said, timidly, stepping to Dirty Shirt’s side, “ but are you the proprietor of the horntoad about which you’ve been speakin’?’’ “T utterly am,” Dirty Shirt answered, glancing proudly at Edith; “ that’s my original horntoad! Nobody but me has any equity in Edith.” ‘“* Edith?’ ” the total stranger echoed, with an odd lift of his brows, ‘‘ did you say ‘Edith’ was his name?” . ‘‘Edith is ker name!” Dirty Shirt re- torted impatiently. The total stranger leaned forward, study- ing Edith intently: ‘‘Hum-mmm—” he muttered, shaking his head, ‘it’s just as I feared! He’s a ‘lacertilia-batrachia ’—and the batrachian element predominates.” “What in thunder you talkin’ about?” Dirty Shirt snapped out the question with asperity. He resented this stranger’s famili- arity with Edith. ‘What do you mean?” Solemn Johnson questioned, glaring also at the newcomer, whom somehow he felt was insulting Dirty Shirt via Edith, ‘ who th’ hell you callin’ ‘lacer—’ er, what you did call her?” The crowd pressed forward. “No harm meant!” the total stranger apologized, “‘ it was my mistake; I should have made myself known: I am Professor Arnica Hellbender, of Utah, and racin’ horntoads is my specialty!” Dirty Shirt caught his breath with sur- prise. Here, he thought, was unexpected opportunity to get action on Edith’s run- ning ambitions: : “ Glad to meet you, professor,” he began. “Tn that case—” 6A SEVENTH OASIS. 881 ‘It is possible,’ Professor Hellbender in- terrupted, ‘‘ that I am the most eminent horntoadologist in the business! What I don’t know about horntoads ain’t im- portant. If you have heard of the ‘ Horn- toad King of Provo Cajfion,’ that’s me!” ‘“‘ Have you got some runnin’ horntoads?” Dirty Shirt asked, eagerly. Professor Hellbender laughed. ‘¢ My string of racin’ horntoads is without peer.” “You don’t happen to have some of them with you?” ‘On the contrary,” the professor replied genially, ‘‘I am always equipped with at least one of the fastest racin’ horntoads I possess! In the present instance, his name is—’’ he paused for an_ instant, ‘“‘* Brigham XVII,’ the purest bred runnin’ horntoad ever produced in the glorious State of Utah! Brigham is, at this moment, in the midst of the pleasant metropolis of Red Bluff.” ‘‘Where is he? crowd shouted. ‘Brigham is down at Mother Skillern’s hotel,” Professor Hellbender explained, “‘ in my surplus suitcase.” “Go get him,” Solemn broke in, “ we'll run Edith against him!” ‘We sure as hell will!” the audience cried. Evidently, Edith was feeling the tension and writhed restlessly under Dirty Shirt’s hand. ‘Hold still, Edith,” he said, soothingly, Maybe you can run a race pretty soon!” “No, my friend,” Professor Hellbender protested, “‘ I could not permit it! It would be unkind to allow a horntoad of Brigham’s attainments to humiliate the miserable specimen you so incongruously call Edith! In the first place, Edith, as you call him—” “ Her!” Dirty Shirt corrected. The professor ignored the amendment. ‘‘ Edith, as you call him,” he continued, ‘is merely a lacertilia-batrachia, excessive- ly batrachian. Hence he is almost certain to balk at the start of a race and not run at all. The more batrachian he is the apter a horntoad is to balk! “On the other hand, Brigham XVII, the pride of Utah, is ultra-lacertilian and Trot him out!” the comniiclsoo! S (©