Argosy All-Story Weekly — "Sea Marauders" — page 41: what you’re looking at

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

TROUBLE’ RANCH. Peter declined their advances with a grin. He plunged a few dollars on Mr. Varney’s roulette wheel, losing as he had expected, but P. D. Q. was a chap willing to pay for his entertainment. Despite Pete’s lofty indifference to feminine wiles, one girl in the room had early attracted his attention. She was younger and fresher and far prettier than any of the other girls, which, of itself, should have brought a host of men clamoring for her favor. But listlessness proved a damper. She danced occasionally—when asked, but made no advances on her own account. Peter noticed that no man stayed long in her society, quickly bored at her utter unresponsiveness. Most of the time she sat alone at some unused table, face downcast, the pic- ture of dejection, in striking contrast to the levity displayed by her com- panions. Once Peter caught an exchange of glances between the girl and Varney, who was staring at her, a questioning scowl on his face. And the girl, frightened, forced herself to ask the nearest man to dance, only to be re- pulsed. Peter found his interest increasing as he sensed some sort of mystery in the presence of one so wholly unsuited to the sordidness of her surround- ings. This provided sufficient incentive to keep him on the spot, curious as to what might develop from the situation. Of course it was possible that his imagination was working overtime, but Peter had a very definite hunch to the contrary. “Something’s liable to bust loose any minute,” he told himself, “and I aim to be on the sidelines when it does.” Young Spofford, after a time, cashed. in at the poker table, which rather sur- prised Peter, in the light of what Aleck Carmichael had said. “Looks like the guy’s got some till he was milked dry. 463 sense,” he thought, “or he’d hang on But mebby they’s something else on his mind.” HOUGH already carrying a skin- ful of liquor, Spofford made for the bar, where he absorbed an ad- ditional three fingers; then headed, a trifle unsteadily, for a certain portion of the dancing space. Light began to dawn on Mr. Peter De Quincy. Spofford approached the girl Peter had been watching. She shrank from him, but, with a laugh, Spofford pulled her from the chair, one arm*® circling her slim waist. While they danced Peter could see her frightened glance darting this way and that. “If that skunk tries anything rough,’ P. D. Q. thought grimly, “ and nobody else takes a notion to bust up his game, I might take a hand myself.” Through narrowing eyes Peter sur- veyed the dance floor, his disgust at Spofford mounting swiftly. The music ceased, and Spofford, clutching tightly his companion’s arm, drew her toward a vacant table a little to one side; only two of all assembled in the place seemed to note their ac- tions, Peter De Quincy and Varney. It was Varney’s business, naturally, to see everything that went on in his establishment; Peter was also making it his business. opofford and the girl sat down at the table, where drinks were served them. He held a glass of raw whisky to her lips, and, apparently actuated by a wish to conciliate him, she swallowed a little of the fiery stuff, nearly strangled at the unaccustomed sting in her throat. Spofford laughed tipsily at her dis- tress, finishing off the drink himself.’ She started to rise, but he caught her shoulder, pulling her into his lap. She struggled against him—vainly. Aleck Carmichael was not busy at at the moment, and Peter swiftly crossed to the bar. What he wanted now was information. Comicbhooks.com as he Oh ees a fh iin th Pe bt om : 3 - A. +. ee ODP nn ee Ee SS ae vate