The Argosy, August 1905 — page 130: what you’re looking at

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

dure the loneliness and soon pined to-day the first frank and manly face, the first face you could trust, in all that time, you would keep your word also. Yes, thank you, I will sit down. I am not as strong as I was once.” That was an evident fact. The poor old fellow sank into a chair, and to my utter amazement burst into tears. “Poor Eunice! Poor Eunice!” he moaned. “A ruined life! I see it! A life of degradation and misery with an evil man! Oh, my God!” “Mr. Bethune,” I said, “ don’t take it so hard. If you wish to tell me any- thing, let me hear it. Perhaps I can help you out.” “Ah! Perhaps you can. Let me ask you, sir, are you a married man?” “No, sir,” I answered with a laugh. *T have not met the lady yet—that is, to know it.” “Tam an old man. My head is full of fanciful ideas, but you must excuse me,” he said. “ You would be better married.” I laughed. Putting my hand in my pocket, I felt the ten-cent piece, all I possessed. I was going to show it to him, but he broke in. “T came to tell you a story, Mr. Wal- lace—to ask your help, your advice, and perhaps a sacrifice. 1am bewildered strangely bewildered. But let me begin. You will see that there is enough at this time almost to make me insane.” I filled and lit my pipe again, and told him to proceed. “Mr. Wallace,” he began, “up to four years ago I was a happy man, living with my son, his wife, and Eunice, their daughter, in a pretty home in Missis- sippi. My son was named John, and my own name is William. “John became dissatisfied with con- ditions there, and having read of the enormous profits in sheep-rasing here, he came out and purchased the ranch upon which we live now. Of course you see the land is of poor quality, owing to lack of water. We had no money, and could not improve the natural con- ditions, My son’s wife could not en- way. After that, my son was not the me, He took to drink i es.ik “4 oe stock were all mine. ik and spent much not good for him, and at times they would come out to the ranch and all- day Sunday would drink and play.cards. My son grew so bad that I was afraid Eunice would sicken and die, she wept so much. “Then, two years ago, the awful thing happened. Among the boon com- panions my son had found at Mackin- ville was a Mexican named De Paro. Vrederick De Paro was perhaps the worst of the lot. He was not a bad- looking fellow, but a dare-devil, unscru- pulous when it was necessary to get somebody out of his way—in faet, a perfect scoundrel. “He was apparently rich, and it was said that he got his wealth by stealing cattle. At any rate, it was known that he was the chief of a gang of Mexicans that infested the border, always making trouble. Well, one Sunday they were all out at the ranch, six of them, drink- ing heavily and betting high. My son had already lost his little savings. “Among the others was the sheriff. He was a rough man, but not a wicked one. But he traveled with a bad lot, and he, too, drank a great deal. Toward night the game was almost a frenzied one. Horses and cattle were wagered on the cards, and one man wagered his farm and lost. A week later he shot himself. ‘“My son John had lost all control of himself, but De Paro never did that. He was always cool and calculating, and never lost an opportunity that showed itself. “T had sent Eunice away to the front of the house so that she would not hear their coarse, vile language. I watched them, for I did not know what they would do. “Tam out!’ I heard my son say. “I am busted! ’ “*You’ve got a ranch and plenty of cattle, said De Paro. “You see, Mr. Wallace, the ranch and He could not bet that. girl. I like her. She is p want a wife, any way comicbooks.com)| “* Well,’ I heard De Paro say to my