Be Young Again!
By Murray Leinster
(author of "Nobody Saw The Ship")
FEATURE NOVEL
Just about every confidence gag had been tried
on old Vachti, except the Elixir of Youth. Only
this was different—Professor Barr had a unique
pitch on it, but Buck had the real goods!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Future combined with Science Fiction Stories July-August 1950.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Me and a guy named Hermes Trismigestus take care of the situation whenJode gets in a very tight place. This guy Trismigestus is anyways athousand years old, if he's alive anywhere, and I am sixteen, but weco-operate. The tight place is caused by Prof Henry Barr, who urgentregrets the matter later on, and by Mr. Vachti, who is an elderlybootlegger baron in the dear dead days; he still has bodyguards hangingaround him bloodthirsty. If you think an old guy like Mr. Vachti can'tfigure in a tight place—he's got some tough-looking goons around and ayacht and a private island estate and other trimmings—all I got to sayis you never met Mr. Vachti.
Old Jode gets into it because he thinks it will top off his career.Pride. He is the party who once worked a handkerchief-switch on MaMandelbaum, who I understand was the biggest lady fence in the world inher day, and wasn't to be swindled by an amateur. He also once sells agold brick to the United States Mint in Denver, Colorado. And once hepersuades the police department of a certain fair city that he is a Fedman with a tip-off on a bank robbery that is gonna take place. He hasevery cop in town ambushed around that bank that night, while he lurksinside with a tommy-gun, waiting for the bold bad burglars that neverarrive. He acts much embarrassed next morning.
But a coupla days later the liquid assets of the bank turn up in themail addressed to him, because he has spent those long hours packingthem neat in Manilla envelopes and mailing them in the mail-slot thatis in the bank for the convenience of depositors. But, still, Jodefeels that taking Mr. Vachti over the hurdles will crown his career.Mr. Vachti was a very big shot once, when his business staff includednot only income-tax men and tommy-gun experts, but also gentlemen whospecialize in putting people in barrels of concrete and dumping them inthe Chicago River.
I meet old Jode when I am thumbing a ride towards the Coast. I havebeat it from what you might call home after my old man works me overwith a chair for spending money I earn on a gas-engine for a modelaeroplane instead of giving it to him to get drunk on. I am not makingout so good at hitch-hiking, because, being sixteen and not looking anyolder, I hafta dodge truant officers everywhere. But I get by; I fix acar-radio for a guy at a fillin'-station while old Jode is having hisgas-tank filled up, and the guy says swell and gives me a half a buck.The job I done would cost him twelve sixty at a regular repair-shop. Isays, "I could do with a lift to Phoenix," but the guy isn't going thatway. Then old Jode wheezes cordial that he is, so I climb in his car.
He is fat and old and has danglin' red wattles, and he looks like heis made of money and hasn't a care in the world. Outside of havin'the cops of sixteen or eighteen states passionate interested in hiswhereabouts, he doesn't have no worries, and lookin' like a milliondollars is his business. But I don't know that then; he talks to me