Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 17, 1924 — page 75: what you’re looking at

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

DIRTY “ All right. I can’t leave the bridge until we land at Coral Isle. Id be glad, though, if you would get some coffee now, and bring me back a cup.” “ That being the case, buddie, I guess I'll go. Where’s your galley?” ‘““Second door amidships to starboard, matey. Thanks for getting it.” “Not at all—not at all,” said the con- stable, as he started down the ladder. Sparks smiled. How simple it was to get 2, man on one’s side. Two little rules: first show him strength, and then get him to help you. No matter how small the assistance might be, get him to help you. No act on earth becomes so quickly a habit. By the time he has helped you in a small thing he is ready to move on to a larger one. The third time comes more easily still and before he knows it he’s helping you in things that really count. Then he begins to help you without your asking him to. Then he begins to insist on helping you. It gets to be like a drug he’s taken a craving for. Then he gives you his shirt. 7 During the next four days Sparks had many opportunities for putting this theory into practice, He further found that the speed of the work was considerably put forward by the constable’s assistance. All trace of his former assailants in the cave had vanished. Whether a boat had put into the island and taken them off or whether, in approved East Indian fashion, they had simply vanished into thin air there were no means for determining. The constable, after he had recovered from initial amazements, was fascinated by the efficiency and expedition that attended the work. In no time at all he insisted upon taking a hand. His admiration for the young woodpecker who gave him per- mission to help him—and thus made work desirable—changed slowly into a species of reverent awe. By the time they returned to Mirapa if Sparks had told him he intended to alter the usual successions of the four seasons, the constable would have simply asked, “Which one you planning to have come first?” 5 A WORK. 225 On the morning of their arrival at Mirapa, Miss Vail, properly clothed and, presumably, in her right mind, stood waiting on the pier in the early sunlight to greet the Princess. As to her greeting of its owner—what she intended to say to that young man was a caution. She had rehearsed it carefully the sight before, with Tibbet as an audience. Tib- bet, two minutes after the curtain had gone up, had excused herself for a moment and had returned with cotton in her ears, Nothing, as Miss Vail well knew, was so demoralizing to a member of the opposite sex as a carefully, and expensively, dressed young lady. In her philosophy, the sweet- est face that ever bloomed in gingham gown stood the chance of a hunk of raw meat in a lion’s den when put alongside of a battle axe in one of fashion’s best. And so, in a simple little frock of jade that had set her father back a matter of three hundred and fifty berries, Miss Vail was prepared to launch her worst. She almost felt sorry for Mr. Swift. Tibbet, during the rehearsal of the night before, had been driven, vicariously, into tears. The sight of a second figure on the Princess’s bridge gave Miss Vail a start. Upon recognizing male attire she wondered, for a shocking instant, whether any other female had copped her idea of the night of departure and had gotten away with it. A more definite view of the person’s figure reassured her. No woman in the world ought to look like that, and if she did, she didn’t matter. Standing beside Miss Vail was a puppy. It was a friendly looking sort of puppy, as homely and as understandable as cottage cheese. It’s name was Atlas. Miss Vail had by now recognized the second figure on the bridge as the constable, Her first reaction was to stoop and snatch Atlas hastily into her arms, She had once seen the constable kick a dog out of his path. She did not like the constable. Miss Vail’s second reaction to the inden- tification of the constable was more curious and yet, when you come to analyze it, as right as human nature. It was a sharp stab of alarm for Mr. Victor Swift. Go NOOK (C@