Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 161: what you’re looking at

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

CROSSWORDS AND COW HANDS. tions from the normal routine of working, eating and sleeping were his trips to Dusty Creek, eighteen miles away. He always went alone on these trips, and returned with the smell of liquor on him, though he never yet had come back drunk. ‘“Some day he’ll prob’ly bust loose and raise hell around here,’’ Speck Hasty had once prophesied. ““Let’s hope it’s here and not in Dusty Crick, so’s we can handle him,” added the foreman. . Shortly after Sinclair’s return, the men tumbled into their bunks. The next day was one of arduous labor, but despite this fact, the four hands and their foreman gleefully prepared for the trip into Dusty Creek and the dancing lesson under Bonita Barrymore’s direction, when the work was aver. Link Upton shaved with unusual care. The reflection of his face in his twisted mirror didn’t please him. He wished he were less homely. Bonita was so very pretty that he always was acutely con- - scious of his shortcomings in her presence. ‘But I reckon I ain’t no worse tuh look at than these other jaspers,”’ he consoled himself. ‘‘ Even the wise Doc is a long jump from a prize beauty. Ed Sinclair is the best lookin’ hombre in the outfit, but he ain’t got no time for women.” A small hall over a grocery store served as Miss Bonita Barrymore’s “ dancing studio.” By the time Link and the four wranglers arrived a dozen men and women were practicing the steps of a waltz to the music of a none too good horned graph- ophone. The teacher greeted the contingent from the Kickin’ K with a warm smile. Bonita Barrymore was small, slim and dark. She _had bobbed hair and wore a simple little dress short enough to disclose the trimmest pair of ankles in Dusty Creek. “ Hurry and hang up your things,” she said. ‘“ The lesson has started.” Awkwardly they obeyed. The heart of every member of the quintet had leaped at her smile of welcome, for Bonita smiled very charmingly indeed. Link Upton followed her every move- ment with his eyes. There were times, ATL when the foreman was out of the girl’s presence that he wondered if a roughneck wrangler and such a dainty bit of feminin- ity could meet on common ground. Bonita —so she had informed her pupils — had danced a while on the stage. In his more practical musings he had admitted to him- self she seemed hardly cut out for life on a cattle ranch. But once within the sweep of her lustrous dark eyes Link had no practical thoughts about Bonita Barrymore at all. He was completely under the spell of her alluring” personality, lost in more or less hopeless adoration. At the first opportunity, of course, Doc Cushing and his fellow crossworders showed the teacher how much they had accom- plished. Her enthusiasm did not escape the foreman. Link swore softly. A little later Bonita became his partner in a foxtrot—for a few precious moments. ‘‘ Not as interested in the crossword puz- zles as Mr. Cushing and the others, are you, Mr. Upton?” she half-teased. ‘““ No, Miss Bonita, yuh see—vwell, I ain’t so terrible good along book lines,” he stam- mered. ‘ Ridin’ and ropin’ and such oe is more my style, I reckon.” “The puzzles are really fun,” she smiled up at him. ‘I suppose, though, you get plenty of enjoyment out of other things. Some one told me you were the best rider on the Kickin’ K ranch. You must love to be on the back of a horse!” ‘“Better’n anythin’,” admitted » Link “Except — except mebbe dancin’ with a partner like—like yuh, Miss Bonita!” “Oh, Mr. Upton!” She seemed a trifle © startled. ‘ Really, I—do you know, you boys from the ranch are my very best pupils? I’m planning to give_a dance in the Masonic Hall here a week from Satur- day night with a real orchestra, and I do. want you all to be there.” : “Even a new hoof and mouth plague won't keep us away, Miss Bonita!” he promised. The announcement of the forthcoming «lance, made at the conclusion of the lesson, was heartily applauded. Particularly by representatives of the Kickin’ K, each of whom resolved privately that not even two oO CS Eomichoo ‘com