Argosy All-Story Weekly, August 9, 1924 — page 35: what you’re looking at

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

WHITE EYE. 185 devil in the flames o’ hell. It Il burn up yer will, an’ eat out yer soul, leavin’ yer livin’ body to fester an’ rot like the car- cass of a brute! Don’t you think it’s time to cut it out? White eye an’ that little dancer’s gitting a strangle hold on you!” Larry pulled himself up at that. What right had Joe to butt in on his private af- fairs? Not that he cared much this morn- ing what became of him. He only wanted to forget everything and everybody. He wanted to be let alone. But in the eyes that peered from the fat, inscrutable countenance close to his there was something that called to him— something stronger even than the spoken words that searched deep down into his soul. Slowly a great fear came over him. It was a fear that was closely akin to horror. When Joe paused for an answer he raised a stricken face to him. “Joe, I want to stop, but I’m afraid it’s too late. I’ve tried to quit—but something always drags me back. I guess it’s because I’m what the boss said—a weakling.” “No, Lasry!” Joe’s voice showed he knew what a desperate struggle was afoot. “It’s not too late. You’ve got yer soul yet, but when that’s gone there’s nothin’ left. If you started on this road account o’ some bitterness, fergit it. That’s what this thing feeds on. You must ’a’ had a good mother—lay hold o’ her mem’ry with all the power o’ yer soul! She can do more fer you than any other bein’ on earth just now. Nobody ever taught me to pray, but if I could, I’d get down on my knees an’ ask God to help you, fer I know where yer standin’!”’ Once more the fires of remorse burned fiercely in Larry. He heard again the voice of his mother at the hour of parting, asking God to keep him pure in mind and body. Then the picture changed. He saw the orchard where a gentle breeze stirred the bloom clouded branches. He saw a fair young face upturned to his—heard a sweet voice promising to love him always, even to the end of time. Scalding tears coursed down his cheeks. Sobs shook his whole body. He grasped Joe’s hand as he raised a face twitching with agony. ‘Joe! Show me how to save myself! IT mustn’t go on—I can’t turn back!” ‘“‘T think I can show you a way, Larry. D’ya wanta try it?” “Tl do anything, Joe—go anywhere— if there’s only a chance for me to break away from this stuff!” ‘Wait for me,” ordered Joe curtly, as he turned and left the room. The untouched glass of “‘ white eye ” was still on the table. The hopeless anguish of the last few minutes had made Larry unconscious of the craving for a stimulus, but now it returned in overpowering force. The resistless clamor of the nerves would not be denied. He could not remove his eyes from that sparkling liquor. A thou- sand voices seemed to drown the inner voice of resistance. He tried to keep his thoughts on other things. Where had Joe gone? What was the “ way ” he was pre- paring? ‘“One more drink won’t do any harm!” said the voices. “It will clear your mind. You haven’t taken anything this morning. You shouldn’t break off all at once!” A half formed conviction fastened on his mind that as long as he lived he would have this awful craving. God—he never could hold out, an hour, a day, one week! That seemed an eternity. A month or a year was as inconceivable as those periods through which the earth was formed. Better to die from this poison now than be driven mad by a craving which would not let go. Suddenly everything went black. He felt himself whirling through space, as if caught in a giant whirlpool of the air which was tearing his head from his body. A great stillness, and then unconsciousness. Any one less experienced than Joe in the effects of white eye would have pronounced that convulsive jerking of the limbs and foaming of the lips an epileptic attack; but he, better than all others, realized the power of the awful craving which if not satisfied brings on “ La Ataca.” “Poor devil, you didn’t give in, did ~ you?” he murmured in a voice husky with emotion, as he lifted Larry’s twitching form in his arms and noted that the liquor re- mained untouched in the glass. When Larry came to he was lying on a CoOMmicloookks CO