The Argosy, December 1905 — page 150: what you’re looking at

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

128 ranch, but Pedro is so nervous to-day that I don’t believe I'll dare to carry it. Think you could pack it over for me? Is eight miles—rather far for break- fast, but it may be worth your while.” He was about to decide in favor of the day beside the tank, with the freight as a remote chance, when the quiet scorn with which she awaited the expected re- fusal put him on his mettle. “ Where’s the box?” “Over at the shack,” she said with sudden brightening of her eyes. “ And you tell Peters I sent word most par- ticularly that he was to lend you a towel and some soap.” Ardsley walked down the track to the little red shanty over which Peters pre- sided in his triple capacity of station agent, telegraph operator, and engineer of the pumps which supplied the great tank. Five minutes later he returned with a clean face, a good-sized wooden box, and the knowledge that the young woman waiting for him on her pawing pony was Neva Carter, only daughter of the richest ranchman in the vicinity, which in that particular section of Ari- zona means half a dozen counties. Now that the caked cinders had been removed he was not such a bad looking chap. His features carried no stamp of dissipation, but exposure and privation had left their marks. His long hair was neatly brushed, and, better clad, he might have passed for a man of some parts. The girl glanced at him approvingly. “ Follow the trail,” she said tersely as she indicated where wheel tracks had broken the mesquit. “I must give Pedro a run before he will settle down to business.” With loosened rein Pedro dashed across the mesa. Ardsley paused a mo- ment to admire the picture made by the spirited horse and his graceful rider; then, shouldering the box, he struck out briskly in their tracks. The sun beat mercilessly through the eracks in the crown of his tattered hat, and the box gained amazingly in weight with every step; but he trudged on, his eyes fastened upon the flying figures ahead. Presently she turned and came back THE ARGOSY. at a gallop. Pedro, now less restive, steadied into a walk beside the man. “ Box heavy?” asked the girl. Ardsley smiled grimly. ““ Heavy as lead!” “Want to give up the job?” “No,” he replied shortly. “J think I’d enjoy the sense of earning a meal.” “ Been tramping long?” “ About two years.” “A man like—lke—yourself must have some reason for tramping? ” “Fate!” he said curtly. “That is the third time you’ve fallen back on that expression. Haven’t you a . real reason? ” “It was fate,” he persisted. “ There was a time when I wore purple and fine linen fe “And you gave them up for over- alis?? ; “No; the linen frayed and the purple faded.” “And you were too lazy to renew them ? ” 3 ‘““No one would give me the chance.” “Nonsense!” She spoke almost bruskly, but curiosity burned clearly in her eyes. Ardsley shifted the box to his other shoulder and trudged on. - “ You see, business standards are dif- ferent here and in New York. Behold in me an unsuccessful climber & “ A what?” interrupted the girl. “ A social climber. My father had a cumfortable business, but we lived up to the very tip of his income, often be- yond it. My mother maneuvered and scraped to put me through college, and keep me in the style of the rich chaps with whom, somehow, I naturally fra- ternized. Of course, if I had understood our financial condition I might have done differently. Still, I don’t know— I was such a foolish young cub and spent money like water ie “Your mother did very wrong,” said the girl decidedly. “ She should have been honest and frank with you.” The man stopped short in the dusty trail. “My mother is dead. She did what she thought was right according to her training and social light.” The sudden deepening of color in the Co VOO AMG SS (C@