Argosy All-Story Weekly, June 13, 1925 — page 54: what you’re looking at

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

526 Easterner: Think what would happen to me if I fell into either of their clutches! You'd be glad if I did—you mean old man!” ‘No, ma’am, that ain’t so,” Friday ar- gued stubbornly. ‘I shore would hate t’ see a sweet, innocent leetle gal like you fall into th’ clutches of any of them rascals.” Suddenly, Miss Corbin dropped her face into her two hands and softly wept. The two men eyed her with alarm. Presently she lifted her little head. “Every one is against me! It’s as if I had committed some unspeakable crime! Oh, what have I done to be treated so cruelly by every one? I—I’m tossed about the world as if I were a rubber ball. Oh, isn’t there any justice! The world has turned against me!” “ Listen, Margie,” Larry Wilpin said un- comfortably, ‘‘ we ain’t turned against you. We like you fine. What are you gettin’ so hysterical about?” “Vou don’t seem to realize how a girl with a sensitive nature like mine can suf- fer. You—yourre so callous!” “ But Margie,” he said tenderly, “ ain't we aimin’ to protect you with the last shell in our guns and the last wallop in our four fists?” “ Aren’t you going to leave me in a hotel room in a wicked, wild, dangerous commun- ity while you go off and get disgustingly in- toxicated and gamble all night long?” ‘Sure we are, Margie, but we ave to do it. You don’t seem to appreciate how it is. You don’t know how it is to be penned up year after year—” “Oh, don’t I! my life!” “Ves, Margie, but not on an ungrateful farm that wouldn’t grow a blade of any- thing—not even if you kissed every seed before you planted it in the ground. You’ve got your freedom, haven’t you? You're gettin’ just one brand new thrill right after another, ain’t your “T don’t see what you’re kickin’ about. I’ve rescued you away from that vile old woman and that vicious son of hers and a good long spell in the calabozo for a charge of attempted murder. What more can I do? You're as free as a lark—but I ain’t. I’ve been penned up all ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, “Tm goin’ to have my freedom, too, Margie, and freedom for me is bustin’ loose in Hell’s Delight, maybe havin’ a few rounds o’ drinks, maybe havin’ a good in- terestin’ fight or so with some stranger I don’t like the looks of, and gamblin’ away some of this hard-earned money. I ain’t no child, Margie. I’m a red-blooded man, Margie, and I crave some action afore somebody plugs me proper. You trust me, Margie. I’ll see to it that nobody hurts or harms you.” “But you’re so callous. I—I should think you’d be ashamed of yourselves—two hulking men going off to drink and fight and gamble and leaving a poor little thing like me all alone in a dangerous, wicked town. Back in New York I know ten men —splendid fellows—any of whom would gladly break an engagement for the privi- lege of taking me to dinner or the theater or somewhere to dance.” “Well, this ain’t New York we’re headin’ for, Margie. It’s Yumpa.” “You don’t like me!” ‘* Pussonally, Margie, I like you excellent. But I’ve just got a deep-seated, long- grained distrust for green-eyed girls. That’s all.” “If you only realized how you’re humili- ating me—the great sacrifice I’m making going off into the mountains with two Strange men! My—my reputation is ruined!” . “Yes, Margie, so is mine. Even poor old Friday here ain’t immune to the clat- terin’ tongues that’re goin’ to start up when everybody learns that we went off into the mountains with a strange girl from the Fast.” “Oh!” she wailed. “’m sorry, Margie, but what I don’t know about women would fill a stack of books higher than yonder mountain. But what do we care, Margie, when you come right down to the essentials? We're three outlaws, ain’t we? Until we’re caught we're a-goin’ to lead a life just jammed with thrills—and ain’t that what you were hankerin’ for?” “T’m thirsty,” she said faintly, “and tired—-so tired-—of it all!” ‘“ There’s a spring down the trail a little COIN NOOK. S C@