Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 116: what you’re looking at

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

© 272 The octoroon echoed the laugh—breath- lessly—showing a gleam of even white teeth through his thick lips. “You reckon I ain’t doing what?” Mc- Corkle almost whispered. “T said I reckoned you ain’t callin’ me a kinky-headed swine again.” “Oh, I ain’t, ain’t IP? Well, maybe I am!” “T don’t hear you.” Never was there a more beautiful obbli- gato than Jacqueline’s laugh offsetting the husky whisper, the guttural taunt. ‘Tt comes to me mind, Parson, that you been gettin’ a better balance on that ’er weapon which you holds in your hand. When you got a nice holt, ready to smash me, you’d like for me to call you some- thin’, wouldn’t you now? So’s you’d have an excuse to shoot down your chief?” “TI don’t hear you callin’ me nothin’, sir.” “Be careful not to move that thar gun, Parson. My hand’s ready. You’ve seen this here hand of mine juggle afore this many a time?” “My own hand ain’t exactly like mo- lasses, sir.” McCorkle’s breath came in puffs. His forehead beaded with blinks of sweat. A silvery laugh was ringing within him, vi- brating, shaking some nerve excruciatingly, as a sound wave will shake a taut wire. He was going to show that girl how he treated his men. He had wanted to perform for her—showing her what punishment he could inflict when there was the slightest in- fringement upon his rule or dignity. And now he was given a chance—more than he had bargained for. It was his uppermost motive—to show her. But here when the chance offered, he found that detestable half-breed facing him with a gun, and actually taunting him. And the girl was laughing! Without taking his eye from the octo- roon, he said: ‘ Wing, shag over there alongside of him, and frisk his gun.” “Why do you order him to do that, chief?” Parson asked loudly, menacingly. “ Disarm me? For why? Will I stand here and leave you pump lead into me—just to show that thar mademoiselle how brave you ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. are? Hell no! Skow her how you can shoot down this gentleman—” he nodded to Cameron—*“ but not_.how you shoot down Parson!” | “You will give your gun to Wing, Par- son,” McCorkle said quietly. That tone was always obeyed in past arguments. “TI figure you want to take a little pot at me— which delays our evenin’s work. Surrender your gun—or [ll call it mutiny.” The octoroon found himself in a quand- ary. His master was resorting to an au- thority which for many years had been re- spected not only by Wing and Dorset, but by Parson himself. “? Tain’t mutiny, sir,” Parson said in a totally different voice. “ It’d be plain mur- der if I gives this here gun up. They’s too many prisoners here which had orter been shot long afore this. Why the hell don’t you shoot some of them? No, you want for to shoot me, sir—because of that woman. High yaller you calls me, don’t you? Cre- ole, that’s what I am! And I ain’t yaller in the guts—like some tidewater skippers. This here gun stays in my hand, for to protect myself agin you, chief.” Wing did not step too close to the octo- roon in his first intent to obey McCorkle’s order. He found himself, however, in the position of a mediator. “Did we-all come to get treasure, mates, or did we come here to knife each other over some flat-footed woman. Which a woman spells shipwreck no matter who nor where nor when!: of weather was makin’, chief, when you got soused and we found a gal in the house! Well and good! I’m satisfied. The gal—she belongs to you, chief.” He turned to Parson, shaking his bony finger at the blue lips, the tightened eyes. “You hear what I’m sayin’, Parson? That ain’t because you’re part negro, no sir. I ain’t intimatin’ that. It’s because the chief allus gets first choice of the women. Not only in our gang, but in every gang in the world. That’s settled. She’s hisn—and good riddance if she got stowed away some- wheres afore a typhoon blows us all to hell!” This speech was extraordinarily success- ful in relieving the deadly tensity. Dorset eonnichoc<Aconn I knew damned well what sort