The Argosy for May — page 148: what you’re looking at

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

AT THE END Suddenly she grabbed my arm. ‘“What’s that man dancing up and down on the sidewalk for?” was her question. I took a look. The man she was talking about was the proprietor of the restaurant, and he was jumping around wildly in front of his place. “That doesn’t seem to be a look of joy on his face, does it?” I smiled. ‘But what’s the matter with him?”’ = Stung, IT guesse* It wasn’t until later that I really eal ized who had got the worst of the deal that made me a happy man for life and put the crook just seventy dollars ahead. Then I realized why the restaurant- keeper was dancing around. About a week after that my wife and I hit a bunch of luck, and consequently fed our faces at the Waldorf. Just as we were being seated I saw a little group around a near-by corner. To my boundless surprise, I made out the face of the man who had given me thirty for the phony diamond, and thus AT THE END By FRED V. OF== tia ROPE. 33d stuck the restaurant-keeper for a hun- dred. My blood boiled. He had accused me of trying to work a game when I was absolutely on the square. The fel- low he had stung ought to get his money back. I stepped over to the table, after whis- pering to my wife to wait a moment and watch what happened. When I confronted him he turned deathly pale. I felt sorry for him for a second—but no longer. Then I found that he had just be- friended somebody or other, as. he had me, and had sent a fifty out to be changed. I hurried after the waiter and asked to see the bill. Sure enough, it was a phony. Then I bawled him out. Well, I paid back to the restaurant- keeper the thirty that had put me on my feet, so that left only seventy for the counterfeiter to return. And when he got our two rolls together you never saw such a happy hash-house proprietor in your life. OF HIS ROPE. GREENE, Jr. - Three thousand miles from home, hope gone, and the realization that you are being hounded by a man who has done you a service and is eager to make a touch. fe O H, good morning, Walker!” Myers wheeled around in his chair and faced the young playwright, who stood at a respectful distance from the theatrical manager’s desk. “Tm glad you came in,” he contin- ued, ‘because I wanted to see you re- garding this play of yours. Just draw that chair up here.” Walker did so, and a nervous ex- pectancy came over him. Was his work really going to be accepted? “T’ve read your play,” Myers con- tinued. ‘‘ That-is, I’ve read it over hurriedly; and I’m frank in saying I like it. Of course, there are some little defects—or, at least, they appear defects to me—but they are so unimportant that we could easily smooth them out. On the whole, I think it is very good—very good, indeed.” Walker’s breath was coming in short, quick gasps. Now, perhaps, he need not remember that he had only money enough to last until a set day, and ‘that day rapidly approaching. ‘Then you—take it?” he said aoe ly. “Well, no; not exactly.” Myers could not fail to notice Walker’s coun- tenance as it slowly paled to the color of chalk. ‘“ Neither do I say I will not take it,” the manager hastened to add. ‘““T want a little more time to give it a second reading.” ‘“More time?” the younger man re- peated bitterly. “ That’s what you all say, and then, in the end, it comes back to me.’ COMMICLOOKKS. EO