Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 81: what you’re looking at

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

GENTLEMAN ROGER’S GIRL, Some time later all three were simultane- ously awakened by a gruff command. They sat up to behold a raugh-looking man star- ing dewn at them. A mongrel hound cringed at his heels. It was to the dog that his commands were addressed. The man seemed almost as disturbed as the awakened sleepers. Distrust and fear struggled in his bright, shallew black eyes, like a wild animal’s eyes. In self-protec- tion he affected an air of clownish stupidity. Although his clothes were rough and worn, he carried an expensive double-barrelled gun, beautifully kept. He was extraordi- narily dark and swarthy, foreign looking, yet with no recognizable racial characteris- tics. His villainous look was partly due to a bad scar which bisected one of his eye- brows. Of the rudely awakened fugitives Hal. had the most self-possession. He teok out his case and helped himself to a cigarette. Hal had already adopted a guiding maxim in life: “ When in doubt, make the other fellow speak first.” Roger, more impulsive, ‘What are you doing here?” “Just what I was astin’ myself about you, boss, returned the man with a leer. Roger discomposed, fell silent. Hal said: ‘“We lost our car in an accident down the road, and had to hoof it. Have a ciga- rette?”’ “ Huh!” said the man scornfully, Never- theless he took one. “ Live around here?” asked Hal. “Tm a traveler like yourself,” was the answer. “I trade horses.” “Oh, I see!” said Hal, somewhat re- lieved. The more questionable the fellow’s occupation, the better for them under the circumstances. : “Ves, I’m a gypsy if you want to know it,” the man added truculently. “ve got nothing against gypsies,” Hal declared. “ How about his nibs yonder?” asked the man with a jerk of his thumb in Roger’s direction. Roger had recovered his sang-froid. “T’m a gypsy myself at heart,” he said. It was over the man’s head. He merely grunted. burst out: “Ys your camp near here?” Hal asked. ‘Not far,” was the cautious reply. “Can you give us some breakfast? You see we have nothing.” “Can you pay for it?” “We can.” “TY dunno. the women. You wait here.” among the trees. Roger jumped up. ‘“‘ Come on, let’s make tracks out of here,” he said nervously. But Hal sat tight. ‘“‘ What’s the use?” he argued. ‘“ We wouldn’t get a mile.” “JT wouldn’t trust a fellow like that,” in- sisted Roger. ‘‘ Rogue is written all over him!” “We have no choice,” said Hal. “If he doesn’t know already who we are, he soon will. Our best plan is to make friends with his gang. The more rogues they are, the less likely to give us up. We've got to have help from semebody. Celesta must be fed.” Choosing a moment when Celesta was looking elsewhere, Hal slipped a revolver from his hip pocket to the side pocket of his coat. “Have you got another?” Roger whis- pered. Hal shook his head. In a quarter of an hour the gypsy re- turned without his gun or dog. ‘“’S all right,” he said briefly. “Come on. Cost you a dollar each.” Hal made a wry face at the price, but there was no help for it. The man with the scar led the way di- rectly into the woods. They began to climb, and leaving the deciduous trees be- hind them, plunged into thick second growth pine. There was ne undergrowth here, but the slender trunks sprang so close together they had to pick a circuitous course among them, and the sharp spines tore at their clothes and their flesh. - The slippery carpet of needles afforded only a treacher- ous footing. They instinctively followed their guide in Indian file. “Spread out, spread out,” he snarled over his shoulder. ‘‘ Do you want to leave a wide open trail?” They obeyed, and then their progress was so slow he often had to wait ill-temperedly for them to catch up. It’s pretty rough. Til ask He made off Gomichbooks "07 (C@