Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 163: what you’re looking at

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

DESERT VOICES. clouds, from which height he had returned suddenly to mother earth. He no longer attempted to keep his left foot in the stir- rup—if he had, his leg would have been crushed. Thus, when the old mare scram- bled to her feet again and made a sky dive, her rider was half out of the saddle. One last buck, Cactus Anne was con- vinced, and those burning stirrups would rake her hide no longer. Instead, they would be raking the straw in the humiliat- ing corner of the corral. But somehow old lady Anne, the sister of Pegasus, made a mistake. It was a small mistake—merely a matter of lurching to the right instead of the left. Phil showed a good strip of daylight be- tween himself and the horse. He was in fact completely out of the saddle, sailing in the air—with the exception of that one foot in the stirrup. The mare bucked, yanking him down. And he landed in the saddle again with a jolt to remember the rest of his life. In fact, he felt as if some one had hammered him into that seat so effectually that noth- ing less than a blacksmith could ever get him out of it again. And as he landed his cigarette flew out of his mouth, describing a long, graceful arc, and landing directly in the corner of the corral where Cactus Anne, the mozo and others present expected to see the rider land. The old outlaw grunted in disgust, turned around and chased the rooster and his two wives in a series of straightaway bucks. But compared to her former dev- iltries these bucks were like the easy loping of a rocking horse. It was quite obvious that the old lady was winded—and exces- sively discouraged. Having returned to the corner where Phil usually landed, she came to a stop, and with a whimsical change of mind fell to munching the hay. Thus, Cactus Anne, once a glorious outlaw, resigned herself to the peace and the humility of a—barn- horse. _ Phil dismounted. “Loosen the cinch and give the old dame some air,” he said to the mozo. _ The latter obeyed without so much as THE 189 winking his eye or shrugging his shoul- ders. Hastening to the ranch-house, Phil was met by Hallie, who embraced him. “Come on now and have breakfast, Phil!” she said. ‘ Eggs and ham and tor- tillas! We'll celebrate the greatest victory since Sun-up struck gold.” “Well, we’ve got another nag for our remuda,” he rejoined, with a fine pretense of indifference. ‘“ She’ll make a good cow- horse before I’m through with her. And I reckon she can think steer as well as the best. of them!” : “T saw it all!” the girl said, her eyes glowing. “ And it was the greatest buck- ing contest ever pulled off in this country, I'll tell you! A pity that all Sun-up wasn’t here to see the show.” “ That wouldn’t have done at all,” Phil objected. “It was something just be- tween you and me; in a manner of speak- ing, it was a proposal of marriage.” ““ My answer was ready before you took off your sombrero to fan the old devil,” Hallie replied. “ It’s on the phonograph now.” Phil listened. The ordinary morning ut- terances of a farm yard—the mooing of the cows, the bleating of sheep, the cackling of hens, the occasional neighing of a horse—were softened by a flood of melodious and rhythmic music. On the phonograph which Hallie had given her mother there was spinning that little rec- ord she had saved out of the ruins of the Golden Cloud. And it was Mendelssohn’s Wedding March, The notes whirled out above the many voices of that ranch. It was an overtone to the Hereford cows bawling for their young separated from them in the calf- sheds. It mingled with a dozen cries— the wind from the yellow Harcuvar mesas, the soughing of the pepper trees, the bleat- ing of the little brown lambs. And, curiously, it harmonized with the whine and squeak of that windmill circling above the watering trough where the lugu- brious and lathered Cactus Anne drowned her disappointment in drink. END com choo £S3,,(EC0)