Argosy, Vol. 123, No. 2 — page 148: what you’re looking at

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

289 and night. As the one of these nearest the gate, a low, rangy touring car, caught his eye, there suddenly swept over him the keenest sense of regret he had known since the turn of his fortunes and his own day of prosperity. It was the make of car he had owned, the fastest model on the market, built on special order; and the trips he had taken behind its wheel had represented the only moments in his life in which he had not held himself entirely to the cold, hard routine of work. And now! A whimsical expression came into his face as he studied the machine; noted the precision and luxury of its work- manship. It fascinated him. It seemed to call to him, to challenge him to win suc- cess again if for no other reason than to own a car like it. His gaze, traveling up- ward met the look of the rather stout man in the driver’s seat, and all at once he flushed. Bitterly conscious of his own shabbiness, he read in the expression of the other amuse- ment and curiosity. His envy probably was very apparent. Turning away, his mind flashed to the problem before him. Within two or three minutes he would be ashore in New York again, after four years. His funds were too low for a leisurely consideration of pos- sible opportunities, yet not the faintest shred of inspiration would ccme to him. In his childhood he had read Alger’s books for boys. He smiled as he thought of the ease with -which those heroes had gained their chance. A fortunate meeting in which some rich man would be in a pre- dicament would give the boy an opportunity to be of service; there would be reward— It could never happen in real life. Be- sides, he had had success, and it might be doubly hard for him to climb again. But he would do it! 3 | The rattle of pawl and ratchet in the ferry house warned him that the boat was nosing into place. There was a clatter as the automobiles started their engines. He turned for a last look at the machine which might have been his own, were it an older model. The gates were pulled back, and the people behind him surged over the gang- plank. The attendant signaled to the first automobile, but it did not move. moment there was a patient silence, and ~ THE ARGOSY. For a then the din of a dozen horns voiced the protest of the other vehicles held on both of the runways. Jack suddenly realized that the car was stalled, and in the same instant he saw that the man at the wheel was rat- tled and apparently an inexperienced driver. Several ferry employees rushed up, and there were cries of “ push it off,” and “ roll her up out of the way.” Jack, however, acted quickly. | ‘“T know this machine!” he exclaimed, stepping to its side and raising the hood. A glance showed him but few changes of design in four years. He looked first at the carburetor. It was dry. He pounded the vacuum tank on a chance and the gaso- line flooded the carburetor immediately. It had been some obstruction, a bit of dirt— and the whole was the work of a minute. The driver, however, although he started his engine, still was nervous and confused. “Shall I drive you out?” Jack volun- teered. “* Oh! relief. Grinning, Jack swung over the door be- hind the wheel, and the car spurted up the incline with wonderful response as his foot found the throttle, and as the gears noise- Would you?” - lessly meshed and changed their places at his bidding. The flapping sole of his shoe was forgotten. It seemed hard to realize that he was not Jackson Wells again, metal- lurgical and structural engineer, possessing a country-wide reputation in spite of his youth. “If you are in no‘great nae to get any- where—” the voice of the man beside hm was distinctly apologetic. Jack had maneuvered the machine through the maze of people and vehicles outside the ferry-house, across the tracks of the street car terminals, and was headed eastward on Forty-Second. From force. of habit he had taken this route, but he real- ized suddenly he was in the role of volun- teer chauffeur. Slowing, he faced his com- panion. “Tm a returned wanderer,” he explained, ‘and if you care to have me I’ll be glad to drive you wherever you say! I have noth- MICLOOOK with palpable C@