Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 1, 1922 — page 73: what you’re looking at

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

THE FIST IN PACIFIST. But it chanced that Myra Carson gazed back so much more penetratingly, with such a wicked little gleam in her eye and such a wealth of self-confidence on every feature that the doctor caught his difficult breath and moved his lips strangely and soundlessly, the while what little remained of his color faded out. 863 Miss Carson yawned. ‘“You’re rude about answering ques- tions,” she said. ‘I asked you, where is the guest chamber—the nicest one?” The doctor’s eyes fell and one unsteady finger pointed upward. “It’s — just above—this room!” he croaked hoarsely. (To be continued NEXT WEEK.) Oat o By JOHN D. SWAIN “slap day ” at Kingston since grass has grown on its campus, and water run from the old college pump. At twilight on this day the juniors perch for the first time on the campus fence, silent and apprehensive. The dormitory windows are filled with underclassmen and. their guests, but the-campus is roped off. Pres- ently a file of black-gowned seniors emerges from Dilworthy Hall—an edifice of vast antiquity, erected in the era of horse cars, [™ first Monday in June has been gas street lamps, and gold toothpicks at-~ tached to watch chains—and makes for the trembling juniors. Here and there one is singled out for a hearty slap on the back, as one or the other of the senior societies thus signifies its choice. _. Cestus is for the red-blooded, and gathers in the varsity stars; Book and Worm favors the blue-stocking crowd, the scholars and orators; Domus Aurea seeks the silk-stock-: ings, the Prom chairman, the owner of the most expensive car, the men with registered great-grandparents. All are desirable societies, with elaborate clubhouses and pretty pins; but Sarcopha- gus is the supreme goal of every Kingston man. Alone among the societies, it stands. for no definite type of candidate. It would COMmiclooOo SS C©