Argosy All-Story Weekly, December 4, 1926 — page 58: what you’re looking at

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

368 “Who is this man?” Don Eugenio con- cluded his harangue, with a withering sneer at Rusty. “Why, I’m nobody much,” Rusty drawled; “only the guy that’s going to marry your little Rose.” _ Perenzo drew himself sharply erect. “Ha! You jest, senor! A sorry jest, indeed, as you shall presently learn to your sorrow. My daughter marries this friend of my youth, Don Enrique Mendez. It is I, Don Perenzo, who declares it.” “Fine words,” Rusty grunted grimly, “but without substance, like the breeze that dies at sunset. I tell you Rosita has promised herself to me.” Perenzo swelled visibly under the pent- up force of his emotion. “Looks more than ever like an over- fat, overfed little bantam rooster,” was Rusty’s disrespectful thought. “Sacramento!” Don Perenzo gulped, grabbing at his hair in a fury. “ You lie, dog of an American! Rosita could not promise herself. She knew that I, her fa- ther, had long ago affianced her to my friend. He appealed to the girl. “Speak up, Rosita! Will you stand there and hear yourself defamed by this scum of the cattle ranges?” “But it is the truth, my father,” she sobbed. ‘I love this caballero. It is he only whom I wish to marry.” She spoke in Spanish, as the others, Rusty included, had been doing. “ Car-r-ramba!” Don Perenzo rolled the “yr” like a telephone operator. “ You are crazy, Rosita!” “Forgive me, my father!” she cried piteously. ‘But I am not crazy—except perhaps with love of him. He saved me from worse than death.” “Ha!” Don Perenzo exclaimed, as if a sudden light had dawned. He glanced meaningly at the silent En- rique, as if to say, “I feared something might come of that.” “Ha!” he repeated sternly. ‘So this, then, is that nobody, that rubbish of the ranges whom you met at the fiesta when you forgot that you are the daughter of Don Eugenio Perenzo!” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. His words comprised both a statement and a question—an accusation as well. Silently Rosita nodded. Then: “You will let me marry him, won’t you, my father?” “Ha!” Perenzo again snorted. bewitched you, Rosita! You are not your- self. You must think that I am as crazy as you. Do you think that I, your father, Don Eugenio Perenzo, am wholly devoid of honor? Have I not given my sacred promise that you are to wed Don Enrique? Is my word lightly pledged and lightly broken, think you? Ha!” and Don Eu- genio struck something of an attitude; it might have been imposing, had it not sav- ored too strongly of burlesque absurdity. Of this, however, the worthy don was quite unconscious. 3 During this time the festivities of the baile had been going on in full swing, all the celebrators apparently ignorant of the fact that a dangerous rival to Don En- ‘“* He has rique’s hopes of a wedding on the morrow , had materialized out of nowhere. Rusty was rather surprised that the scene had . been thus far unobserved. “ Listen to me, child!” Perenzo forced himself to a semblance of calmness. “ You must be reasonable. Supposing for once that it were possible for you to marry this upstart against my wishes—what would become of you? From his garb you can see that he is no better than a range rider, who earns in a month perhaps a hundred pesos - if he be lucky. Whence then would come the dainty things you love so much? The silken garments next your delicate skin, the costly gowns that drape your slender body, the jeweled slippers that sheathe your pret- ty feet? ‘“T have brought you up in luxury, Ro- sita. Joining your lot with this fellow’s will bring you to poverty, like that of the wretched peons. Instead of having serv- ants eager to obey your slightest wish, you yourself will have to toil like the meanest of waiting girls. Think of these things, Ro- sita. Ponder them well!” Rosita misunderstood the motive behind her father’s words. ‘Then you will let me marry him, my father!”’ she cried. ‘“ All these luxuries you 3A MICOOOLKS (©) (E@)