The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 183: what you’re looking at

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

CASTAWAYS OF How’s that for a rake-off? Ripley be- comes dictator of dentistry and medi- cine, and already his department is rushed to death on account of edict 3126. His returns—” Lumley’s brain was dizzy. “But what is Dr. Kelpie doing? ”’ he interrupted hoarsely. “He is dictator of miucrocosmol- ogy,” replied Plunkett. “ It is his busi- ness to watch the play of the various elements in our little world, and advise as to what must be done to keep in good health the goose that lays the golden egg. I hope you understand what I mean?” and the chief dictator gave a shrewd wink. The room was whirling around Lum- ley, and he gripped the back of a chair to steady himself. He had been count- ing upon his fellow members of the Rescue Society for aid in persuading the castaways to leave careers of tyran- ny and graft and go back comfortably to IQOT. away from him; they had even gone to support that nefarious structure of oppression and tribute so cunningly raised by the usurpers. Everson Lumley stood alone—alone against all this cruel greed which the twentieth century had unloaded upon the twenty-first. Ah, Dr. Kelpie, Dr. Kelpie, who could have believed it of you! But, stay! Lumley had one thought like a forlorn hope. “ Tod,” said he, “ what office have you given your brother Jefferson? ”’ “T haven’t seen Jefferson as yet,” was the reply; “but I shall certainly have a good dictatorship for Jeff. As for you, Lumley, what more fitting than that you should be supervisor gen- eral of the subconscious rays? You can have a blue and gold office in the Head Center Building, and make sure that the rays are at all times efficient and properly directed. There’s no chance for graft; but what’s the odds? ‘All our pickings are thrown into a com- mon fund, and when we've had enough of the game we'll split even. What do you say?” Now these props had fallen THE YEAR 2000. 169 Lumley had not the slightest inten- tion of allying himself with the free- booters. He was consecrated to the one purpose of rescuing all of them from their reprehensible careers and restoring them to spheres of respectable activity in their own times. But if he gained his end against such overwhelm- ing odds, he must proceed warily. “Tll have to think about it, Tod,” he said. “I can’t give you an answer offhand.” “Better come in with us, Lumley,” urged Archibald Grant. | “We'll see about that later,’ was Lumley’s evasive response. “TI think, Tod,” he went on to the chief dictator, “that decree 3165 was a mistake. It is causing a tremendous amount of dis- tress, and the people will not put up with it. That decree, I should judge from my limited observation, is the last straw.” Tod Plunkett frowned. “The people will have to put up with it!” he declared. “ Our muglug army will force them to carry out the terms of the edict. “The will of the dictators is the law of the land. Come along with me, Lumley. We'll go back to headquarters.” The head dictator turned to Grant. “ Hustle the work here, Archibald,” said he. “ Every capable muglug you turn out is another rivet in the fabric of our power. The stronger we are, the farther we can go; and the farther we go, the more successful our infor- mation.” “ By working night and day, Tod,” replied Grant, “ we can turn out, on an average, twenty-five mugs, tested and O. K.’d, every twenty-four hours. Only about one in ten is defective.” “Good work! Keep it up. I'll be around for regular weekly inspection on Saturday next. Good-by. All ready, Lumley.” The two products de lure of the muglug factory, especially constructed for the chief dictator’s body-guard, marched back to the gleaming air-ship as they had marched away from it— oO cComicbooks CO