Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 123, No. 4 — page 20: what you’re looking at

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

326 particularly, if that girl be as pretty as the one who now faced Bert. And this girl was pretty, Bert decided; deucedly pretty! Surety that look of chilling dis- dain was foreign to those soft brown eyes; those alluring lips were more used to warm- ing smiles than supercilious sneerst Fiis momentary indignation dropped from him, and he smiled at her. “I’m sorry you dislike me so coadialty before you know me,” he said. ‘TI take it that you were present at that meeting this morning, and—”’ ‘Yd like very much to get by,” she in- terrupted. ‘Wilt you kindly back up your horse to where the road widens? It isn’t very far, and it’s impossible to pass here.” ‘FN do the best I can,” replied Bert, still smilmg. ‘‘ 1-know my horse has three speeds forward—slow, slower, and slowest —but I’m not sure about reverse.” The girt made no response, nor did she seem to have to make an effort to keep from smiling. She was looking at Bert, but she seemed see through him and far up the road behind him. Watching her, he was possessed of the rare sensation of being completely invisible. ' He took up his reins, pulling back upon them; and finally, after many narrow es- capes from running off the road into the guity that edged it, he reached the desired spot and drew over to one side of the road. The girl waited until he came to a stop and then lightly fticked her horse. As she passed him, Bert smiled and nodded, but her gaze was centered on a point that showed ahead between the ears of her trot- ting horse. “How she loves me!” grinned Bert, watching her until she disappeared around a bend. “I wonder who the deuce she is.” Fifteen minwtes later, when he was hitch- ing his horse to the post before the office of The Punch, Fred Patterson came to the doorway to speak to him, and he related to tht editor the rather unusual episode. ‘“‘T hope every one in Selma won't treat me the same way,” he concluded. ‘“‘ I won- der who she was.” “What did she look like?” asked Fred. ** Maybe I can tell you.” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, “Well,” Bert reptied showly; “ she was a perfect peach, so far as loaks went. She had big brown eyes with long lashes, and dark brown hair—almost black—that she wore parted on one side and sort of dipped down on her forehead; and she ware a dark blue whatchacallem, with lace on the eolfar, and she had a wonderful comptexion and a small nose and mouth. Oh, she was awfully pretty!” Fred laughed, and clapped Bert on the shoulder. “ Antt I suppose ste had two arms and a couple of ears. As a describer, Bing Bang, you’re not much good. Kut I believe I know who she is, anyway. If she’s as pretty as you say, she must be Ruth Warren. She teaches cooking and - domestic science in the high school here.” ‘“T wonder,” mused Bert, “why she’s got it in for me that way. - She seemed to hate me like poison.” Fred laughed again. “You wonder!” he cried. ‘ Why, she’s the older daughter of Jonas Warren, the candidate for sheriff you spoke against this morning!”’ Late that night, Bert sat before the window of his darkened room at the Palace Hotel. He was too mentally alert, reliving the events of that day, to be sleepy, and what coolness there was in the sultry lingered at the window. Selma had sunk to stumber; one by one he had watched the lights of thé village blink out imto blackness unti? only one remained: a pete half-moon whose yellowness routed utter darkness from the street, save where the long shadows of the buildings cast mais- shapen silhouettes across the roadway. Bert, elbows propped on the window-sill, and his head resting between his pahns, was suddenly surprised to see the form of aman emerge from the murky boundaries ‘of one of these shadows, quickening his pace almost to a run as he crossed the brief space of lig&t and until he entered again into the refuge of another shadow, ‘when he walked more slowly once more. The sight of a person on the street at that hour—it was almast midnight—would have been sufficient to cause Bert some wonderment; but there was about this NOOK 7 Orig | f ] ay, wig! cae Ii ASOT G =) HE OHIO SIT;