Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 45: what you’re looking at

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

JEREMIAH PARSCNS—HE-MAN. 6795 These were glorious, golden moments for Jem. He seated himself on the running board of the car and rolled a cigarette. Puffing relishingly, he related his day’s ad- ventures, the saga losing nothing in the elaborate detail of his recital. ‘“ Good Lord!” murmured Lawton when Jem had finished. ‘‘ Good Lord!” And that was all he had speech for. As for corroboration of the truth of the story, the delivery of the bag was suffi- cient. After a few awe-stricken moments of si- lence, the judge filled in the gaps in the sit- uation with which Jem was unfamiliar. ‘An hour or so after you left, this morn- ing,” Lawton said, “ Goss announced he was going after you to see what you'd done. “He said he didn’t believe you would go to the camp—that you’d probably skip out of the country. He came back later on and announced that that was just the case— that he had gone to the Blue Buttes camp, and you had never shown up. That’s why we didn’t try to find out what had become of you; we figured you had lost your nerve and were gone for keeps, taking the auto THE Goss loaned you as an even trade on the horse you were leaving. Goss reported Kurtz claimed Hoskins skipped out last night. So we just dropped the whole affair. When Goss left town again later in the af- ternoon, nobody paid any attention to it. He’s always going in and out.” Jem swaggered to his feet. “Well,” he drawled, ‘“there’s your money, and here’s your bandits, and here’s your dance disturber. Guess Ill call it a day an’ turn in.” | “Mr. Parsons ”’—Judge Lawton ap- proached him earnestly—* on behalf of Sky City, I extend to you our sincerest grati- tude. And I also extend to you a most earnest invitation to stay in our town and be one of us. With your help we hope to make it once more a proud, decent com- munity.” Jem’s eyes gazed off to the dimly loom- ing mountains encircling the town. ‘“T’m much obliged, judge,” he said, “ to you an’ these other gents. But me—I’m jus’ a cow-puncher—jus’ a common cow hand. I reckon me an’ Suds 711 be pullin’ out of here in th’ morning. They’re expect- in’ us over in th’ Park.” END PROMISE F I must die, I shall be . The rain that cools your brow, That I may know I soothe you As I do now. Or I shall be the sunlight That warms and comforts you; The white star in your darkness The long night through. Oh, when I die, I shall be Your every vital breath. For I must know you love me Even in death. Edith Loomis. CoOMmMicooolkkSse©