Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 147: what you’re looking at

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

POOR LITTLE PIGEON. 937 then Dual was speaking again to the girl who had said there was nothing more. ‘“Nay, child of Miguel Ramirez, there is nothing more between thee and him. But to thee, there is thy father—who, now that there is no longer any danger to him, or any charge to be pressed against him, will be released. He is an old man, Lolita— and did you not say to my friend Senor Glace and to Sefor Judson that you had desired to have him with you, to care for him, but the other night? And shall you not now gain your wish? Shall you not take him from the jail and care for him? And who knows, may it not be that some day Pablo shall return and find you both? Sheriff Quagley—can you not telephone to the jail and arrange that she shall be ad- mitted and given her father?” ‘““Tll—by ginger, I’ll do it!” Quagley said, and turned away to seek Parkin’s telephone and make good his words. But Lolita sat without sign for a mo- ment longer, her dark, dry eyes on Semi’s face. Before rising swiftly she bent and caught his hand and brushed it with her lips. ‘“Boco te mano, senor. my fat’er,” she said. Some way I thought of the woman of Magdala, and found that my throat ached. I weel go—to CHAPTER XX. CONCLUSION. “WA Muerte de la Culebra.” It was so Judson headed his story in the Globe—a story that brought him even more than a local prominence and was more or less copied far and wide, since, still in the grip of its dramatic quality, its weird horror, he literally outdid himself in de- scribing how Pulfer had died the death of the snake. Bryce read it in a chair by the window of our room, and laid the paper aside. “Well, son,” he said, “ that’s the total —the addin’ machine delivered at last. An’ as usual, it checks. An’ this morning the little pigeon an’ her dad can fly the coop.” I nodded. Stanley had confessed the night before, and as a result Haddon had instructed Quagley to release his prisoners; had withdrawn even the most technical charge. He had been waiting for us when we returned from the undertaker’s the evening before; had listened to our story, and de- parted at once to return to the camp. Faced by the death of his associate and Lolita’s story, the sergeant had made a clean breast of the whole matter from first to last, and Newton had been promptly greeted by his brother officers and rather lionized. “Yes,” I said, “this is the end of it, Jim. I suppose about to-morrow we'll be hittin’ it back East.” But in so much I was counting without consideration of a certain lady we had met a few days past. It wasn’t over ten minutes later that Danny came in with his. usual grin on his face. ‘* Say,” he announced, slamming the door behind him and helping himself to a chair, “you know that Perringer dame what horned in on us right at the first? Well, she just called up—you know she’s a friend of the pigeon’s. It was in her dump she met her sweetie first. Well—she’s takin’ the girl and her dad over there to her place to-day, an’ she’s asked the whole gang to dinner. Sort of a celebration, I guess. Any- way, Mr. Dual talked to her himself just now, and told her we’d be there with bells on, except that as he was goin’ away from here to-morrow an’ had to pack his tur- ban, he wouldn’t wear that. Well, we’re let in for the love feast, all right.” I glanced at Jim. He chuckled. “Wonder she didn’t make it another reception instead of a dinner,” he said. “Who all’s comin’ to this here, now, ban- quet, Danny? Did she give Dual the list of guests or not?” And Danny winked. He was in high feather that morning, if ever in his life. “Well, there’s me,” he informed us, “and Mr. Dual and both of you, of course, and Haddon, and Judson and Quagley. I heard that much at least. She spilled it to me when I answered the phone, before I could shut her off to tell her it wasn’t the Yogi speakin’. Naturally, Rand and oO COMME DOO KS EO