The Argosy, Vol. 75, No. 4 — page 101: what you’re looking at

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

MESQUITE RANCH. thinking him conscious of what he did than if he had never spoken it. All at once his gloomy musings were cut short by the sound of a step he knew. He heard his name called softly inside the house. But he kept still. If Natalie became sufficiently anxious about him, if she cared at all, she would come outside to look for him when she . saw he was not in the bed. Praying that there was in her one spark of the love which was a con- suming flame in him, he moved over in the very deepest shadow of the house. If she knew that his presence in the house had been known to Sykes, and had, through him, reached the ears of the man who had come to mistreat him, she must feel some concern about his welfare—she must dread lest the young Southerner himself take a hand in the game with him, “Come, come, come! ”’ his heart beat while his mind repeated over and over —“T love you, Little Bitter-Sweet! I want you—I want you!” It seemed to him the fervor and con- centration of his prayer must reach and woo her. But, in spite of his hope, he almost gasped when she actually came through the door, holding back the net- ting with a small hand that shone pear- ly-white in the gloom. As he looked across her shoulder he saw a brave silver star emerge from behind the heavy clouds that covered the sky. Its steady brightness cheered him. 3 Still he did not speak. He waited till Natalie crossed the stone floor. He meant to get between her and the door before he revealed himself. But she seemed bent on some espe- cial errand. She went away from the house toward the trail which led down on the opposite side of the butte from the spring. He followed her quietly, rejoicing at every step, for the greater distance she put between herself and Miss Thorpe the better were his chances to talk to her uninterruptedly. The lone star had been the daring 803 leader of a silver host. They came forth in shimmering panoply of power. With diamond lances of light they seemed to fight the clouds from the sky. Radford could see Natalie distinctly now as she moved along over the rocks. His heart was singing. She was hurry- ing toward the trail to see if he had descended there, hoping to find the horse he had left somewhere in the neighborhood of the ascent to the house. She reached a little natural landing in the trail. Radford thought he could risk overtaking her. The place was away from the house, sheltered by close high rocks, just the spot for the con- versation in which he meant to lay bare his heart and plead with her for a ten- derer memory than she could possibly have if he went back to the duty that called him and left her to think that she had been a mere episode in the expe- rience of a rich young adventurer. Loverlike, he deceived himself with the thought that this was farewell, that all he would ask of her when he had poured out his love and told her that it was the one deep and abiding emo- tion that would claim his silent fidelity all his life, was assurance that she would think kindly of him. The insatiable craving to hear her voice, to be near her, to try hungrily to gain one little hint that she was not utterly unresponsive to the love that swayed him, disguised itself so cleverly that he did not recognize it himself. He opened his lips to call her when a tall, dark figure stepped from behind the rocks. It was Tom Sykes. Natalie started. “What have you done to heem? ” she cried. “T reckon you mean Gill?’ Sykes re- turned. “ I come to hold his hoss while he interviewed that thar rich gazabo. He’s went home.” A curious silence followed Sykes’s explanation—he must have realized that it was scarcely an answer to her peculiar question. “ Who you talkin’ about?” he asked, as if he began to suspect some other COPMICOOOKS (C@)