Argosy All-Story Weekly, August 9, 1924 — page 32: what you’re looking at

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

182 with what fierce resolution she had an- swered: ‘ Then I would kill you, Laree!” Well, she needn’t worry. There would never be “ another.’”’ The emptiness left by Lucille would never be filled. He began to pace nervously up and down the room. Why did his thoughts always revert to Lucille? It had been so despite his sternest efforts, ever since that night he had wandered off into the jungle after reading the letter, and had lain there face down in that patch of moonlight moaning out his heartsickness and grief, until Braulio, hunting him, had finally stumbled on him and taken him home. Braulio had thought there had been a death in his fami- ly. Well, so there had. A part of himself had died that night. If he only had a drink! White eye at least made it possible to forget Lucille. Queer how his desire to forget was even greater than the craving for liquor. He wondered if there wasn’t an extra bottle of that stuff in the little cupboard. Yes, here it was—the leather-covered silver flask he carried on his trips into the country. Half full, too. Let’s see—he hadn’t taken a drink since morning. Funny thing—he hadn’t intended taking one now, but the sight of this flask, and the odor, made him faint. He wanted more than anything in the world to feel that fiery liquid—* burn- ing water,” as the natives called it—flowing down his throat. He wanted it so much that the perspiration stood out on his fore- head and body, although he felt chilly. No, he wouldn’t pour it out! Still, maybe the action of filling a glass would to some extent satisfy his craving. He would throw it out instead of drinking it. A tobacco user once told him that he broke himself of smoking cigars by simply chewing a small stick when the craving became unbearable, proving that it was more a muscular habit than a physical craving. . How crystal clear the stuff was! It looked as harmless as the water from the old pump at home. There must be a differ- ence between this craving and the one for tobacco. The sight of the liquor was driv- ing him mad. He wondered if men ever prayed at a time like this. Why was it he was trembling like an exhausted athlete? ~ ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. No, he wouldn’t yield—not this time, any- way. With a shaking hand he raised the glass and tossed the contents through the grilled window. Drained of strength, he returned to his chair, but the book he picked up might as well have been written in Chinese as far as the meaning went. After a few minutes he tossed it to one side and resumed his nerv- ous pacing. Eight o’clock. Seemed an age since he came in. Couldn’t go over to the club. It was hard enough to keep from taking a drink here. How could he resist if the whole gang were urging him to join them? He had seen too many fellows try tc hold out against them only to end by going the limit. A long vista of empty evenings like this stretched endlessly ahead. There were no shows to go to, only the clubs and dance halls, where one who didn’t drink was given scant welcome. He paused to gaze at a small oval picture of Lincoln hanging above his bed. Vividly he recalled the time when his mother first told him the story of the great man’s life. Ever since he was a little boy that picture had hung above him when he slept. It Seemed an age since he took it from its place at home the afternoon he was pack- ing up to come down here. Somehow it had always brought comfort to him during those first homesick days. Even now he thought he read understanding in that sad smile. Maybe he did understand. Boisterous sounds in the street roused him from his reverie. Almost immediately the door was flung open. ‘* Hello, old sluffer! the slip, eh?” ‘* We've been waiting at the club an hour for you. What’s the matter? Look like you’d seen a ghost!” ‘No, I don’t intend to go out to-night, fellas. In fact, ’m—” ‘“‘Come on, La-ree!” they interrupted. “Get your sombrery and pile in. Don’t you know this is the night we welcome ‘Qld Chappy Dahlgleish’ back from dear old Hingland?”’ As Larry still made no move, the most hilarious speaker turned to the others and announced in tragic tones: Trying to give us CoOMmicloo (-) S (CO) nn