The Argosy, August 1905 — page 80: what you’re looking at

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

ms ~ A modern romance in the Holy involvin a villain, and culminating in THE FUGITIVE. BY ALBERT PAYSON TERHUNE. CHAPTER LI. IN PERIL BY THE JORDAN. LONG, tortuous stream—a creek rather than a river—mud-colored, swift, turbulent; and in a cleared space along the western bank a group of three white tents. In front of the largest tent lounged an elderly woman and a man. “And this is the Jordan!” the woman was saying as she eyed the turgid yellow river with disappoint- ment. “I had pictured it as so differ- ent.” “You and most of the rest of us Americans, Mrs. Sharpe, get your ideas of Holy Land scenes from pictures painted by people who were never nearer Syria than Sandy Hook,” re- joined the florid, stout old gentleman who sprawled on the grass at her feet. “Tt is only a few of us who are lucky enough to see the real thing,’ he went on, “and even then we are apt to feel disappointed until we grasp the subtler side of it all. Personally, I’m glad I came. I enjoy every hour of my stay.” * You aren’t the only member of the party who is extracting wholesale en- joyment,” replied Mrs. Sharpe, lowering her voice and nodding significantly to- ward two men and a girl who were com- ing up the path from the river bank toward the tents. “Your niece, Miss Farrar, ought to be happy with all the attention she is receiving. Look at her, dividing her favors impartially between young Mr. Mohun aia sir Arthur. J confess to a lively interest in that tri- angular love affair.” ‘ € Love affair’ is hardly the word for / Land, involving the mystery of an American who seems to be the massacre at Damascus. “ But,” he added under his breath, “sf she does fall in love with either of them, I hope it won’t be with that young human beanpole with a title tied. to it. Mohun is a hundred per cent the better man of the two.” The trio of young people had drawn too near to permit Mrs. Sharpe to an- swer. The kind old lady smiled up at the flushed, eager face of the tall girl who stood before her, and her gaze passed on with scarcely less friendliness to a stalwart, bronzed youth of medium height who stood on May’s left hand and who appeared to have been arguing hotly with her on some tepic. The third member of the trio, a long, lank youth with a perpetual smile, colorless hair, and a nose three sizes too large for the rest of the small, sallow face, almost justified at first glance the major’s unkind deseriptien, “A human beanpole with a title tied to it.” Yet Sir Arthur Cole, Baronet, was re- garded by many as a deeidedly desirable pati, and hé himself thereughly con- curred in this opinion. It was evident he had been an onlooker rather than a participant in the discussien between Mohun and May Farrar, as he looked uncomfortably from one te the other and seemed anxious to lead the talk into some other channel. _ “Unele Jack,” eried the girl, partly in fun, partly in vexation, “ will-you kindly explain to Mr. Mohun that if I need any advice as te my conduct I ean come to you for it without troubling him?” Mohun reddened under his bronzed skin as the major and Mrs. Sharpe looked at him in quizzical inquir mis} ae. + it, I hope!” retorted the major testily. | “If P’ve interfered with Miss Farrat e> : Pad May has a good, level head on her wishes,” he bomen, ee drat and she’s not foolish enough her sake. Not for my own bac pete | comicbooks.com