Argosy and Railroad Man's Magazine, Vol. 107 No. 3 — page 36: what you’re looking at

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

378 even in their senses. I guess we can ride right around to the door.” . But for the wide, weathered porch they could have ridden up to it and knocked on its panels from the saddle. Taterleg was for going to the kitchen door, a suggestion which the duke scorned. He didn’t want to meet that girl at a kitchen door, even her own kitchen door. For that he was about to meet her, there was no doubt in him that moment. : He was not in a state of trembling eager- ness, but of calm expectation, as a man might be justified in one who had made his preparations and felt the outcome sure. He even smiled as he pictured her surprise, like a man returning home unexpectedly, but to a welcome of which he -held no doubt. . Taterleg remained mounted while Lam- bert went to the door. It was a rather in- hospitable appearing door of solid oak, heavy and dark. There was a narrow pane of beveled glass set into it near the top, beneath it a knocker that must have been hammered by a hand in some far land cen- turies before the house on the mesa was planned. - A negro woman, rheumatic, old, came to the door. . Miss Philbrook was at the barn, she said. What did they want of her? Were they looking for work? To these questions Lambert made no reply. As he turned back to his horse the old serving woman came to the porch, leaving the door swinging wide, giving a view into the hall, which was furnished with a luxuriance that Taterleg never had seen before. The old woman watched the duke keen- ly as he swung into the saddle. She shaded her eyes against the sun, looking after him still as he rode with his companion toward the barn. Chickens were making the barn-yard lots comfortable with their noise, some dairy cows of a breed alien to that range waited in a lot to be turned out to the day’s grazing; a burro put its big-eared head round the corner of a shed, eying the strangers with the alert curiosity of a nino of his native land. But the lady of the ranch was not in sight or sound. ARGOSY AND RAILROAD MAN’S MAGAZINE. Lambert drew up at employees’ quarters from the barn-yard, and sat looking things over. Here was a peace and security, an atmosphere of con- tentment and comfort, entirely lacking in the surroundings of the house. The build- ings were all of far better class than were to be found on the ranches of that country; even the bunk-house a house, in fact, and not a shed-roofed shack. ‘““T wonder where she’s at?” said Tater- leg, leaning and peering. ‘““Tll go down to the bunk-house and see if-there’s anybody around,” Lambert said, for he had a notion, somehow, that he ought to meet her on foot. Taterleg remained at the gate, because he looked better on a horse than off, and he was not wanting in that vain streak~ which any man with a backbone arffl mar- row in him possesses. He wanted to ap- | pear at his best when the boss of that high- class outfit laid her eyes on him for the first time; and if he had hopes that she might succumb to his charms, they were no more extravagant than most men’s are under similar conditions. Off to one side of a long barn Lambert saw her as he opened the gate. She was trying to coax a young calf to drink out of a bucket that an old negro held under its nose. Perhaps his heart climbed a lit- tle, and his eyes grew hot with a sudden, surge of blood, as he went forward. He could not see her face fully, for she was bending over the calf, and the broad brim of her hat interposed. She looked up at the sound of his approach, a startled expression in her frank, gray eyes. Hand- some, in truth, she was, in her riding habit of brown duck, her heavy\ sombrero, her strong, high boots. Her hair was the color of old honeycotmb, her face browned by sun and wind. | ‘ She was a maid to gladden a man’s heart, with the morning sun upon her, the strength of her great courage in her clear eyes;'a girl of breeding, as one could see by her proud carriage. But she was not the girl whose hand- kerchief he had won in his reckless race with the train! CTo be continued NEXT WEEK.) e gate cutting the ELOOO (C(O) S (C(O) mM