Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 7, 1922 — page 72: what you’re looking at

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

By 'Y beautiful yacht, white and shining like a jewel, had just dropped an- chor in a bay of the blue Mediter- ranean, beneath the glittering walls of an old Moorish palace, on the balcony of which appeared the Sultana, who paused in her strumming of a lute to wave me a welcome with her flowerlike hand and blow kisses from lips which I knew were scented with jasmine, when all of a sudden Bill kicked me in the ribs. | I woke up. The sapphire sea vanished as I found myself in reality—the dark hotel bedroom, and Bill administering pedal pun- ishment. It was supposed to be an honor to room with Bill Joslin, the manager of the Blue Sox baseball team, but at that moment I decided it was an outrage. “What’s eating you,” I protested, kick- ing back—‘‘ mosquitoes?” CHARLES DIVINE _“ Who’s making any? You’re dreaming. I don’t snore.” : “Then what do you call it—” He stopped abruptly, at a strange sound ‘floating up from the street outside the win- dow. TI listened, and at once I knew that the voices of the night which had aroused Bill from slumber were those of close har- mony: “ Dee-e-ar old gur-r-r-l The rob-bins sing a-a-above you. Dee-e-ar old gur-r-r-] They speak of how I love you—” - Bill scrambled out of bed, complaining. I followed him to the window, where he stood pink with rage and pyjamas. “It’s the quartet,’ I whispered as I dis- cerned the straw-hatted figures of Pudney, the pitcher; Scott, the first baseman; Mc- Nulty, the short stop; and Murray, the “Worse than that,” he growled. “Cut right fielder, with their heads bent together out the noise.” in lyric liason. 218 COMICLOo C©