Argosy All-Story Weekly, January 21, 1922 — page 123: what you’re looking at

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

THE KISS TABOO. of what he had eaten. Chinese chicken chow mein—with rice; pork chop suey— with rice; Indian curry sauce—on rice. And there, protruding from the end of a grain he had missed on his plate,a tiny point was barely visible! Dascomb felt faint. He decided it was a preliminary symptom. The tin palace contained a medicine closet. It opened with a combination lock. The combination was all written out right on its side. That was just another of the queer features of the place. Dascomb looked over the outfit. He decided on cas- tor oil. The oil might heal the pricks of the bamboo slivers. He took a heroic dose. At midnight, racked with cramps, he bade Duano—the pidgin-English speaking majordomo—send the fastest boatmen of the island for the white man. He opened a bottle of brandy and stilled the pain. There was no special object in dying in any more agony than was necessary. ' He woke up quite well. Jt was ten o'clock of the morning. He called for Du- ano. He called again. He felt too good to lie in bed. He laughed at realization that, instead of saving himself from pois- oning, he had probably poisoned himself with medicine. He got up and went in search of the chief servant. Sprawled across the entrance to the big general living-room of the tin palace lay the fellow, the emptied bottle beside him. Dascomb did not feel so good. The chief servant couldn’t even talk baby talk. And here came the chief of the island, old Hu- ali-m’uali himself, and, hanging a little be- hind him out of maiden shyness—the ta- booed girl! Dascomb. repented of ever having seen her. It seemed that his repentance was coming at its usual time—too late. The chief had prepared some hideous punish- ment. He still grinned. It had occurred to Dascomb last night, ashe looked up from the pointed grain of rice at that grin- ning face, that the spider probably had grinned when the fly accepted the invita- tion into her parlor. The same thought recurred to him now— The chief made a sweeping gesture. There was no mistaking it and the grin 113 taken together. He was making a present. The taboo girl was being offered in wed- lock. And Dascomb made a sweeping gesture. There was no mistaking the shock on his face. He didn’t want the present. The present looked puzzled, not a little crest- fallen, The chief’s grin deserted him for a moment. fended. A bright thought came to Dascomb. He ran back to the bedroom. From the bu- reau he tenderly lifted a framed photo- graph. He took it out to the plainly dis- gruntled chief and the plainly disappointed wife the chief had planned to part with. He hoped be made them understand that he wanted only one wife, and that the pho- tograph pictured the one. He saw, however, that they were far from satisfied. He offered the chief a fra- grant-looking old pipe of his uncle’s from the rack on the wall. The chief refused the present. Chief and wife went off together, chattering violently. Dascomb’s repentance went on apace. He had offended the wife and the chief. What could he do about it? More to the point, what would they do about it? Natures like Dascomb’s stand trouble better than waiting for it -and wondering what it is going to be. In an hour he wished old Huali-m’uali would come on and begin his worst. In another hour his dinner was served. The steam of it, rising from under a cover, gave him a surprising hunger. The look of it took the hunger away. It was a casserole dish—of rice. Then his wish came true—and the chief again. His highness marched down the hill He, too, was puzzled and of- to the tin palace on the beach, like a gen- eral at the head of an army. Beside him were six of the island braves. Beside each of the braves dangled a sword. Then came women—it suddenly dawned on Dascomb that Huali-m’uali had been improving the time since Uncle John’s de- mise, to possess himself of all the women- folk in the island. He tried to recall when he had seen a native woman without white flowers in her hair. He couldn’t remember one. And, if the island held more women than he now saw white-wreathed, its female comiclboooks C©