Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 147: what you’re looking at

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

ou've been square to me,” he said, “ in e ways. Not all. I’m thanking you for ot being any harder than you were.” Osborne shook his head and flourished bis kands, but did not speak or offer to _Teturn the grip. Springtime turned to his ow ife, who gave him a double hand clasp. “ Good-by, dear boy,” she said. “ After all, everything is usually for the best, isn’t it? If only we have faith and trust to the good, things come out right in the end. If ever you come to our home again you will find—” “Slim McCabe!” “ Get out!” Springtime turned to Kitty, but no words would come. He fumbled in his pocket and brought out the envelope into which he thad counted her wages and held it out to her. * Your pay,” he said, “ Kitty—” With her eyes on his she took the en- velope, slipped it in a pocket, then put both of her arms about his neck and kissed him square on the lips, then let him go without a word. Springtime backed out of the door step by step and swung it shut on the tableau of starry-eyed Kitty with her hands pressed to her lips, while her father and mother, stunned, sagged on either side of her. bellowed Osborne. CHAPTER XXV. THE TRAITOR. VE found Durkin in the general meeting —} hall of the mission. Some of the glass -~ doors had been swung shut, so that mvert sat within a comparatively small ser, in the center of which a round ined almost red-hot. With his feet fender and his head tipped back, uld have posed for a picture of omfort if only he had been al- cigarette, or pipe. w out a cigarette as he nger and pointed ulder. He heard : , ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEREY. put the cigarette back and look over, and that look told him would have to make a few ch they really began to travel. He was wearing a still different suit, and a pair of leather shoes with cloth i in tH long, aristocratic feet | cc oe , ooked very well, but they would never do for Straddling bumpers “ Gee, Durk,” said Springtime, “ where did you get the swell pair of kicks?” “Kicks?” said Durkin, wrinkling his brows. ‘ That’s criminal slang for shoes, I've heard. If that is what you mean, they are a rather good pair.” Springtime laughed soundlessly and jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the gen- eral direction of California. “ “I’m drifting,” he said in a low voice. “ How about it?” By some mysterious process all the stiff- ness and respectability melted out of Dur- kin, and as he leaned forward in his chair with a glance over his shoulder, his steel- gray eyes were as bright as pin points. “When?” he asked cautiously. “Pronto. As soon as I can get down to the yards and hook a rambler. Then I don’t stop till I get to the coast. Durk.” he said tensely as he gripped the other's knee, “ you’ve heard it said that I was a real traveler, haven’t you? Well, I’ve never done any moving compared to what I’m go- ing to do. You and me are holding down every fast train between here and Frisco, in spite of hell and Jeff Carr. Are you with me?”’ Durkin’s thin nostrils expanded. “So you’re drifting,” he said dreamily; *“you’re on the wing. Good old Spring- time! Mulligans and hangouts and bulls chasing you through railroad yards and saps and ail the rest of it. Good gosh!” ‘“ That’s the boy. Durk,”’ said Springtime. still holding him by the knee. ‘‘ You're too good for this sort of thing. You can chuck those swell togs in the first town we come to and get a good piece of change for them, too. You and I don’t belong in this sort of life—we’re travelers, tramps royal, and will* be all our lives! We can be on our way in half an hour.” Durkin bent his head and for five neither said a word, and in that ~_ comicbooks.com ed his friend that Durkin anges before minutes