The best short stories of 1917, and the yearbook of the American short story
General
The best short stories of 1917, and the yearbook of the American short story
American fiction -- 20th century; Short stories -- 20th century -- Bibliography; Short stories -- 20th century -- Indexes; Short stories, American
"1914, if you must be so precise!" added Magin jovially. "But why not?"
he demanded. "Aren't you an Englishman? You mustn't shake the pious
belief in which I was brought up, that you are all weaned with Scotch!
Say when. It isn't every day that I have the pleasure of so fortunate an
encounter." And, rising, he lifted his glass, bowed, and said: "Here's
to a bit of a lark, Mr. Matthews!"
The younger man rose to it. But inwardly he began to feel a little
irked.
"By the way," he asked, nibbling at a biscuit, "can you tell me anything
about the Ab-i-Diz? I dare say you must know something about it--since
your men look as if they came from up that way. Is there a decent
channel as far as Dizful?"
"Ah!" uttered Magin slowly. "Are you thinking of going up there?" He
considered the question, and his guest, with a flicker in his lighted
eyes. "Well, decent is a relative word, you know. However, wonders can
be accomplished with a stout rope and a gang of natives, even beyond
Dizful. But here you see me and my ark still whole--after a night
journey, too. The worst thing is the sun. You see I am more careful of
my skin than you. As for the shoals, the rapids, the sharks, the lions,
the nomads who pop at you from the bank, _et cetera_--you are an
Englishman! Do you take an interest in antiques?" he broke off abruptly.
"Yes--though interest is a relative word too, I expect."
"Quite so!" agreed the Brazilian. "I have rather a mania for that sort
of thing, myself. Wait. Let me show you." And he went into the inner
cabin. When he came back he held up an alabaster cup. "A Greek kylix!"
he cried. "Pure Greek! What an outline, eh? This is what keeps me from
putting on my slippers! I have no doubt Alexander left it behind him.
Perhaps Hephaistion drank out of it, or Nearchus, to celebrate his
return from India. And some rascally Persian stole it out of a tent!"
Matthews, taking the cup, saw the flicker brighten in the Brazilian's
eyes.
"Nice little pattern of grape leaves, that," he said. "And think of
picking it up out here!"
"Oh you can always pick things up, if you know where to look," said
Magin. "Dieulafoy and the rest of them didn't take everything. How could
they? The people who have come and gone through this country of Elam!
Why just over there, at Bund-i-Kir, Antigonus fought Eumenes and the
Silver Shields for the spoils of Susa--and won them! I have
discovered--But come in here." And he pushed wider open the door of the
inner cabin.
Matthews stepped into what was evidently a stateroom. A broad bunk
filled one side of it, and the visitor could not help remarking a second
interior door. But his eye was chiefly struck by two, three, no four,
chests, which took up more space in the narrow cabin than could be
convenient for its occupant. They seemed to be made of the same
mysterious dark wood as the "ark," clamped with copper.
"I say! Those aren't bad!" he exclaimed. "More of the spoils of Susa?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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