Adventure Magazine, Mid-September 1917 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

Longhorns of the ranch-house, aslim, patient-faced wo- mancametothedoor. Chuck thought that he had never seen such wistful, weary eyes. **Mis’ Dale, lemme make yuh acquainted with my friend Chuck—I mean Morgan,” gabbled the Twin, red as a beet and bobbing desperately. “T am very glad to meet you, Mister Morgan,” said Mrs. Dale in a low, sweet voice, advancing and holding out her hand. “Won’t you come in?” Chuck gulped and shook hands mechani- ’ cally. ‘Much obliged to know yuh,” was the acknowledgment he made shift to utter after a struggle that started the perspira- tion on his forehead. He realized that he was redder than the Twin and had dropped his hat and was standing on the brim. It was not the fact of this woman’s being totally different from what he had been led to expect that reduced Chuck to his present condition of semi-imbecility. Not at all. It was what—or rather who—he had glimpsed over her shoulder. For there stood a goddess—a sure-enough, regular goddess with copper-colored hair, black eyes under curving black eyebrows, a red-lipped mouth, and a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose. And now he was being introduced to the goddess, who, it seemed, was ‘“‘My daugh- ter, Jane.”” And the goddess was smiling at him and showing two rows of beautiful teeth. Followed then other introductions —two, or four, or it might be five, for all Chuck knew—to dream-people that dis- solved in afog. To all intents and purposes the only person in sight was ‘“My daughter, Jane.” And then the fog cleared away with the realization that the goddess was, in a voice every whit as sweet as that of her mother, commenting upon the Mexican carving that adorned his saddle. ‘I’ve always admired the double horse- shoe and flower design,’ was her opening remark. ‘‘Visalia tree, isn’t it?” ‘“Yuh shore know saddles, ma’am,”’ said Chuck, now more than ever ready to fall down and worship. “It ain’t every lady could tell first card out o’ the box like that what tree a man rides.” “T ought to be able to,” she laughed. “I’ve ridden the Visalia all my life.”’ “Then yuh like to ride ’em slick, don’t yuhe”’ split ear. “Surely do. The Billings swell fork never did appeal to me.” —The black eyes wan- dered to his horse’s head—“I’m afraid you’re a lazy person, Mister Morgan.” “Whore Me? Melazy? Why?” ‘“‘You’re using the lazy man’s bridle, the Give me one with a throat-latch and brow-band every time. That kind doesn’t come off when you least expect it.” Chuck rose nobly to the bait and warmly defended his favorite, the split-ear bridle. Within ten minutes he felt that he had known Miss Jane Dale for a long time— years in fact. Later they went together to the spring for a bucket of water, and spent some time admiring the geraniums. At least Chuck admired them and Miss Dale told him about their journey all the way from Macpherson, Kansas. “I like it here,’’ she said in conclusion. ‘‘And it’s so good for father.” ‘ | “Is yore father sick?”’ asked Chuck, sud- denly recalling that one of the dream-people had been an elderly man. “His lungs are weak. But this air will strengthen them, I’m sure. You see, we were going to Colorado, but the doctor said father’s heart would never stand that alti- tude and he advised the Territory.” “‘I’d shore like to shake that doctor’s hand. He couldn’t ’a’ recommended a bet- ter place’n right here on Soogan Creek.” “Oh, he didn’t tell us to come here. [ don’t believe he’d ever heard of Soogan Creek. A man in Blossom suggested it. ae: “Blossom? Why?” “Yes,” she Peaiica tucking in and patting down the loose-flowing hair over her ears. ‘Yes, we thought we’d settle in Marysville, but a man we met in Blossom gave us such glowing accounts of the country round Soo- gan Creek and this old deserted ranch- house that we traveled right on through.” “That’s shore an odd number—tellin’ yuh to come here when Marysville is every mite as high up in the air an’ not havin’ no big ranches they don’t mind ne——” Chuck, sweating his dismay, began to stammer. pane looked at him levelly. “Go on,’ ” She said. “Finish what you were saying.” “I was all done,” Chuck hastened to as- sure her. “No, you weren’t. ‘Not having any big ranches they don’t mind nesters.’ Wasn’t that it? Yes, I thought so. You don’t lie COmicloo CO