The Argosy, Vol. 75, No. 4 — page 196: what you’re looking at

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

898 drawn face turned to the afternoon sun, his eyes listless with suffering and that dumb toleration that shows in the overweak. Womanlike, Peggy pressed her ad- vantage. It took the form of cutting remarks and sneering criticisms deliv- ered to the lonely landscape, settling finally to a personal diatribe. “Drat such a man as you be!”’ she snarled, holding to the seat and leering upon him. “ And to think I’m tied to you for the rest of my days! Me, Peggy Trent, to have to keep on as one of the Gilberts! To be pesticated with your grouches and your swillin’ of booze! “Me, a young woman, to be nailed to a livin’ cross—yes, nailed to a livin’ cross! Takin’ all your sass when yer up and around, and yer slobbers when yer down sick. Sister Lizzie said I'd curse the day. “You, with your airs and your pretty ways before strangers, and a kick for yer wife! For fourteen years I’ve taken all your Cain, Pete Gilbert. I’ve wore my fingers off for you and gone hungry, and followed yer from one end of Christendom to the other. “And what do [ get? A cuss word when I ain’t lookin’ for it, that’s what! You're flat on yer back now, and yer sweet as honey ’cos yer scared yer'll die. But yer settled yer hash yester- day. Couldn’t square a store-bill and had to have it taken outer yer hide— yes, and run outer town to boot. “Gawd, what a disgrace! If it wasn’t for that smash on yer head, off yerd go this minute. I’d give yer a taste of my medicine for once, yer big false alarm!” With the last word she looked at the distant cloud. It had grown alarm- ingly active. It hung clear of the peak, floundering like an anchored bal- loon in a stiff wind. The nearest highland was a squatty ridge half a mile away; the approach to it a maze of washouts. Frantically Peggy belabored the mules, hopeful of reaching the spur and security. THE ARGOSY. But her efforts were wasted. True to her understanding of things desert, the cloud broke from its fastenings in the northern sky, described a small arc to the east, straightened, and swept toward her with the speed of an arrow. Sobbing with anger and disappoint- ment, she jerked the team around and headed it with the storm. ‘Then she sprang to the ground, dragged a tar- paulin over the lathered backs of the animals, and raised a teepee-tent on a near-by hillock with the despatch of an old camper. “Come on and get outer that!’’ she commanded roughly. “‘ D’yer hear me? Gimme yer hand.” She was standing at the tail-end of the wagon, an arm extended toward the recumbent figure, hatred in her eyes. “Gimme yer hand, I said. There’s a cloudburst comin’, and I ain’t reck- onin’ to have any more trouble with yer. What with a wettin’ and yer dear, booze-fightin’ friend, Dr. Lencia, not here to give yer a pill, yer’d die, yer good-for-nuthin’ lummicks! It'd be the best thing that could happen yer. Gimme yer hand, I tell yer!” With this she jerked the one blanket clear of the man. His head sagged, then rolled into a space between the water-cans. ‘The cans popped music- ally. Simultaneously one hand, ani- mated by the action, struck knuckles first against the grub-box. Limply he settled flat upon his face. The first heavy drops were pelting the dry earth and the din of the ap- proaching storm had swelled to a weird screech, but Peggy exhibited no concern. Clutching the blanket, she stood staring in horror at her hus- band’s shaggy head while the rain soaked it and the rivulets started into his collar. Long after a voice came out of the distance. “He’s dead. Queek, get in the tent! [ see to you outfit. Go on! He’ S dead, I tell you!” She looked around in bewilderment. EO PMICLOO KS (E@)