Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 7, 1928 — page 144: what you’re looking at

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

284 Reuel and Hubert had witnessed the sickening spectacle from a hill, and Reuel seized Hubert’s arm as a party of roisterers rode down Massachusetts Avenue about sundown. ‘Where is Luther Roberts’s farm?” he asked. “Out five miles,” “We'd better go.” They rode down the hill on the side opposite the town, and Hubert led the way into the open country at a smart gallop. There were no fires along that road, and they encountered no raiding par- ties, the distance being an objection to merrymakers who found abundant material in easy reach. The farm was already protected. Roberts and Dr. Vincent were there, with a party of friends and farm la- borers, and the two newcomers were received with joyous cheers. As Reuel dismounted, a cry came from the farmhouse porch. * Reuel! Reuel!’’ Unabashed, he responded to the call, and astonished himself as well as Het- ty by seizing the little girl in his arms and holding her close to him. ‘“T came back, Hetty,” he said, “to learn the truth. You loved me, or you hated me. I had to know which.” said Hubert. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. ‘The Washington sweetheart?” she gasped breathlessly. ‘She sent me away,” he said sim- ply. “It was then 1 knew —that I never loved her as—as I tried not to love you from the day I met you.” A great tension was broken, and Hetty wept, heartily and unrestrained. “ Wh—where’ll you take me, Reu- el?” she sobbed, yielding even her will to him. “We are Kansans, Hetty,” he said solemnly. “ Everything is changed for me. Out of my despair have grown a great faith and hope. I’ve seen Law- rence burn to-day, and the sight has been an inspiration. I can see things now with something of the vision of General Robinson and Luther Roberts. “To the beacon fire lighted by ene- mies, greater, braver men will rally to the defense of suffering Kansas. ‘The story of the fall of Lawrence will flash over the world and herald the new day for the West, and the rise of Lawrence from her ashes. There’s a new poem this year by Alfred Tennyson; it’s called ‘ Maud’; and some of the words struck home—” T have felt with my native land, I am one with my kind, I embrace the purpose of God, And the doom assigned. THE END CORMICGLOOOKS (E@)