Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 7, 1922 — page 123: what you’re looking at

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

MAGNIFICENT FOLLY. one is comparable to that which he metes out to himself. The sensitive person is his own castigator. Thrice distilled was Knox’s agony. Lashed by the scorpions of conscience, he hurled himself down the steps and out the yard. He was fumbling at his horse’s tether when a man rushed up flushed with excite- ment and seized his arm. “‘ Mike,” said the man. ‘‘ Where’s Char- lie? I’m scared something’s wrong at the rig.” ‘“‘What’s that, Dowdy?” asked Charlie, stepping up. He had observed the brief conversation between Knox and Iris and had followed his partner’s headlong flight. ‘“‘T dunno exactly,” said Dowdy. ‘\A fel- low come with a gang and moved off the drillin’ rig—”’ ‘““Moved the drillin’ rig!” exclaimed Charlie. ‘Yeah, he hauled it clean off in some wagons.” ‘What made you let him?”’ ‘“‘ He said the rigs was too close together and the fire hazard was too great.” Charlie swore softly. “I couldn’t do nothin’,’’ fal- 269 tered the ineffectual Dowdy; “he said he was an official.” “* Who in hell was it?” ‘* He said he was the State fire marshal!” Charlie’s face was blank, but Knox was quick to fathom the mystery. ‘“‘A trick, evidently,” he said. “IT never suspicioned nothin’ at first— but afterward—the fellow was in such a hurry—it didn’t look right. And I thought I’d better come and tell you,” whined Dowdy. Charlie was already in the saddle. ‘** Dowdy, you’re too darn timid! You’d drown in a spoonful of water,” he said con- temptuously. “ Fustest time nobody ever put nothin’ over on me,” bridled Dowdy, egotistically, ‘We'll go swear out a warrant,” sug- gested Knox. “Warrant, nothin’!” snapped Charlie. “We gotta ride after ’em and get the stuff before they cross the State line.’ A jagged flame of lightning lit up the heavens, then disappeared, leaving the earth darker by contrast. Charlie turned and wheeled into the darkness. Knox followed close after. TO BE CONCLUDED NEXT WEEK U U SEEKING A THRILL AM so weary of curls; gimme a jane with a pout; I am so sick of the girls; show ’em the way to go out. I’m so tired of their smiles; gosh! but they gimme a pain, Testing their grins and their wiles—gimme ’em awkward and plain! Gimme a dame with a frown—gimme a jane with a leer, Every show-house in town shows ’em as foamy as beer. Gimme a miss with a grouch, with hair like the Lord made it grow, Then Ill unlimber my pouch and stay till the end of the show. Gimme a girl as she is; gimme a maid with a limp— Sadie or Susie or Liz—gimme a girl that’s a simp. Gosh! but I’m sore on janes who try to look like what they ain’t, Afraid to go out when it rains for fear they will rub off the paint. Banish the kid with the eyes, give us a she for a whirl; Slip us a pleasant surprise—give us a natural girl! Miles Overholt. comiclbooolx C©