Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 3, 1924 — page 93: what you’re looking at

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

EDITH IN THE us of southwestern Nevada. Solemn was ready to bet that Edith could outrun any horntoad, domestic or imported, in existence. ‘“ Every trip in every particular, she is gettin’ rapider and rapider!” Dirty Shirt shouted jubilantly, unintentionally plagia- rizing M. Coué about fifteen years in ad- vance. ‘* Be careful, you idiot,’ Solemn warned, as Dirty Shirt prepared to launch Edith on another trial run, ‘‘ or you'll get her over- trained and she'll balk!” ‘Don’t worry,” Dirty Shirt answered, ‘I’m familiar with this horntoad’s limita- tions, and when it comes to runnin’ she ain't got none! Edith done that last lap in three seconds and a fourth. 1 figure she can cut the fourth off in a squeeze, where there’s competition!”’ ‘‘ Has anybody seen Professor Hellbender today?” Colonel Spilkins inquired. ‘“ Him and Jeff Warnick were standin’ by Jeffs car down in front of the hotel when I came by!” Chuck Roden volun- teered. ‘He ought to be gettin’ here,”’ Colonel Spilkins mused, glancing at his watch; “ it’s two minutes to 3 P.M. now!” ‘‘ Maybe he’s got cold feet about that Brigham XVII being such a hell of a run- ner, and is plannin’ to elope,”’ someone said, and laughed. As if to rebuke the last speaker, Pro- fessor Hellbender entered the front door of the Seventh Qasis. A sigh of relief was breathed by the crowd. Dirty Shirt stood at the end of the bar, his hand resting car- essingly on Edith’s horns. ‘Well, professor,” he smiled, “ you’ve eventually arrived! Edith is plungin’ to go. Where is the celebrated Brigham toad?” ‘Truly, Brother Horntoadist,” Professor Hellbender replied, genially, “I have arrived. Brigham XVII is also in your midst,’’ and he deposited on the bar a horn- toad that appeared to be an exact duplicate of Edith. The spectators pressed forward, anxious for a closer view of Brigham XVII, the famous Utah “ lacertilia-batrachia.” A murmur of mild disapproval arose: “He don’t look nothin’ extra to me!” SEVENTH OASIS. 883 “So that’s th’ high-power Utah racin’ horntoad?”’ Perhaps Solemn Johnson most nearly ex- pressed the sentiment of the majority when he fervently, contemptuously, remarked: ‘Well, I’ll—be—damned!”’ ‘Do you call that bow-legged insect a racin’ horntoad?” Dirty Shirt sneered, derisively, ‘ I’ll bet two to one Edith can rampse all around him.” ‘* Please,” Professor Hellbender protested, “do not urge me to bet! Gambling is a vicious habit. Anyhow, that miserable sample of scrubiness you inconsistently des- ignate Edith is certain to balk.” ‘* Edith balk?” Solemn Johnson shouted, pushing his way forward. ‘‘ I'l! just bet you five to one she don’t balk!’’ Professor Hell- bender grinned tantalizingly at Solemn. The impudence of his look was too much. ‘ Hell!” Solemn cried, ‘‘ I'll bet ten to one Edith beats that cheap imitation Utah horntoad, even if she does balk!” ‘* Here’s a hundred dollar bill!” the pro- fessor retorted, unexpectedly. ‘“ You’ve tempted me beyond endurance! Heaven help you for leadin’ me astray this way. Il] just take a hundred dollars worth of that ten to one bluff you're pullin!” Solemn was surprised at Prof. Hell. bender’s ready acquiescence; but Solemn was far from bluffing. A moment later eleven hundred dollars reposed in the hands of Ed Slocum, stake-holder and bartender de luxe of the Seventh Oasis. ‘My resources are forty dollars. more, gentlemen,” Professor Hellbender laughed, looking inquiringly around. ‘Since I’ve fallen from grace 1 reckon I'd as well go to the bottom! On the same ten to one terms, if you insist—”’ Colonel Spilkins, Dirty Shirt and others insisted. Dirty Shirt and Professor Hellbender took positions at the front end of the bar, to judge the finish and recapture their horntoads at the conclusion of the race; at the other end of the speedway, Colonel Spilkins waited to say a word; Solemn Johnson held Edith, restless, nervous for the start; Chuck Roden performed a like service for Brigham XVII. ‘One!’ Solemn Johnson counted. comniiclooo! (©