Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 127: what you’re looking at

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

THE ISLAND OF DOUBT. mortgages, traded an occasional boat and had an interest in almost everything con- nected with the lonely little settlement on the Oregon coast and a wide range of back country. Just now Hand had swung his chair about in order to take from the inner drawer of his safe a letter which he reread with deep attention. He nodded over its con- tents several times and looked thoughtfully out of the open store door toward the beach. Down on the sands a figure was moving that caught his interest. It was an alert, vigorous figure dressed like a man and yet even at that distance, undoubtedly a young woman. In spite of riding breeches, high boots, flannel shirt and a man’s felt hat, in spite of the brisk, vigorous carriage there was the suggestion of grace, of curving, flowing line and fullness of breast that be- trayed her sex. Roscoe Hand stared at her without blink- ing, his attention concentrated fully on some problem of great importance and as he saw her turn her steps in his direction he smiled unexpectedly and rubbed his chubby hands together. “JT guess,” said Hand slowly, “I can fix up that little thing all right—” ‘What say, Mr. Hand?” Joe asked eagerly. “Joe, you hustle those orders and don’t talk so much,” his employer rumbled. “When I address my talk to you I'll tell you so,” II. No matter where it began, or how, event- ually anything of importance in Hope was completed in the store of Roscoe Hand. It was not in the least surprising that the stranger from the timberlands should find himself there. He was much as Joe had described him, big and blond. He wore horn-rimmed spec- tacles which were oddly at variance with his serviceable clothes of khaki whipcord and khaki colored flannel. Though he was big he was also lean, like a man in ex- cellent condition after a hard, outdoor trip. When he entered the store he saw that Hand was busy with somebody in the little 917 office and leaned against a show case to wait for him. Presently Hand appeared in the office door ushering out the young wom- an in man’s clothes. “That’s all right, Miss Natalie,’ Hand was saying. “I'll see that the boy gets the stuff aboard the launch for you.” The three of them exchanged glances of appraisal, each in a slightly different man- ner. | The stranger looked at the girl with plain admiration, but with a gentleman’s instinct not to give offense. He found she was well worth that admiration, a girl whose carriage and appearance suggested an intel- Ject as alert as her body. She was by no means a puny woman, nor particularly femi- nine im manner or action and yet it was impossible to notice the finely modeled head, the handsome, dark eyes or her rich color- ing and not acknowledge her, first of all, a woman and entitled to a young woman’s homage. Hand, the storekeeper, stared blandly at the newcomer with filmy, light blue eyes that said nothing. And the girl returned the stranger’s glance, but for a brief space of time, and yet in that few seconds there was in her dark eyes the sudden blaze of a passionate hatred that made the man draw back in alarm, as if she had struck him in the face. Unable to credit the impression he stared again, but saw only an averted head and a darkly tanned cheek glowing with un- usual color. All this was in the minute the young woman was passing. Then Hand was say- ing blandly: “ Well, mister?” ‘“ They all told me to come to you,” the stranger began. “ My name is Francis— Tom Francis. Came across the range to the coast and I’ve got to catch the steamer Pacific from Columbia if possible. Impor- tant business in Frisco. Can’t find anybody with a launch to take me up to Columbia and I couldn’t make it afoot under three days. I’m willing to pay any rate in rea- son for a boat ride.” : “ H-m, just so!” Hand nodded. ‘“ Want to hire somebody with a launch to take you to Columbia. City man, I take it?” — ‘““ Well, more or less—” oO CoOMmiclbooks.€©