Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 14, 1928 — page 119: what you’re looking at

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

GOLD. there stood the erect figure of the in- truder. Tt all happened in a flash of desper- ate realization. Swope saw the man; he recognized him; and he saw the gun in his hand. And at the same time came the baffling realization that the girl had won. She had succeeded somehow or other in getting a man on board ship. And she had succeeded in bringing a man for whom Swope from the very first had had a subconscious fear. Baffled, enraged, terror-stricken, he stood there facing this new enemy—an enemy who was armed with something more than an unloaded gun. The fact that the girl had picked out this man of all others, a man who had been one of the mutineers, confused Swope all the more. And with the confusion came more terror. “A duel is it?” Dorsey was saying in the same mordant, biting tones. “A bit of all right. But why duel with a man who is in irons? ‘That’s rotten, I’d say. Let’s have a real one. Cast off his handcuffs. “ Or else let me take his place. Come on, my gun’s on you—but I'll give you time to lift yours. Ill count three, then we both fire. What say?” Swope took another step backward. His eyes, a moment before blazing with a lust for more blood, had paled now. ‘They were glassy, again assum- ing their customary resemblance to a carp’s. Blobs of sweat came to his yellow forehead. “ One—two—” “Wait, for pity’s sake, wait!” Swope burst out in a shriek. He threw his gun to the deck with a clatter, and then fell to his knees. He crawled, groveling toward Dorsey’s _ boots, reached out and clung to them. “ Don’t kill me, don’t kill me! I’m. yours! We'll make a dicker. “TI got money—so much you can’t count it. We make an agreement. I’m generous. You came into this oa eek you shook my hand. And A — 257 now you want to shoot me down like the helpless dog that I am.” “T won't do that. Quite impossible. And I dare say it would be better for all concerned if we come to an agree- ment. First cast off the cuffs from the old flick.” “Sure, pard, Tl cast ’em off,” Swope gibbered frantically. “ Here’s the key. You want him freed; he goes free. He keeps part of the swag —if it’s your wish, pard. Here—the key. I’m through with it—through with tormentin’ the old lubber. Here, for God’s sake, take it. Only give me my life!” He held it out—as if not daring to get up from his knees. The girl took it from him, and in a moment had the cuffs off her father’s wrist. Without so much as waiting for an order from his rescuer, the old skipper turned upon his mate, and snapped the cuffs on him. “There y’are, my bucko mate. Now stand off so’s I can kick your guts through your head!” “Quite all right,” Dorsey com- mented. “ We'll let him answer for everything that’s happened. Let him be hanged ashore. Why give him a chance to die on the field of honor?” The mate crumpled, as if his innards had rotted. The skipper could not kick him. It would have been like kicking a decayed pumpkin. Instead, the stocky little sea dog turned his face upward. Wrinkled and grizzled as that face was, it had softened with a light that comes to de- vout men when they are communing with God. “In the name of the Merciful and the Almighty!” he said, looking up into Dorsey’s face. “ What messenger from Heaven brought you here?” Dorsey reached for Priscilla’s hand, and she bent down and kissed his fervently. 2 This is the messenger, skipper,” he said. Gomichboo (E@)