The Argosy, Vol. 75, No. 4 — page 201: what you’re looking at

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

DESERT LOOT. whether or not the consequences were of any great moment, she could not even surmise. Came the thought that her host would tell her. Unquestionably he would give her the details of an accident, how she had been removed to the cooler heights of the Crater Beach Range, also that Pete was even then making one of-his daily drives for the doctor. The hint conveyed by this last proba- bility sent her hot with resentment. Would Pete be so despicable as to re- linquish her to the care of that drunken practitioner, his crony, Dr. Lencia, of Sand Dyke Bar? The thought was like a slap in the face. This same Dr. Lencia had been the cause of much of her misery. He had lent his conviviality to the extent of helping make Pete a drunkard. Her mind harked back to Pete’s oc- casional absences from Dugout, termi- nating in the wildest debauches of his career. In feality they had _ been nothing less than friendly calls upon the notorious medico of the neighboring camp. . Pete had told her as much. She remembered that he was proud of his boon companion, recounted his methods with much boasting, and bragged of their friendship. At any rate, the carousals went on. In true wifelike fashion she hated this perverted trafficker of her husband’s weakness. Would that she might face him to squelch him with the fires of her indignation. Upon the first occasion she would— Here a light broke upon her under- standing and her eyes reflected it wick- edly. She looked toward the table. A collection of bottles caught her atten- tion and she drew herself far over the edge of the bed in an endeavor to read the labels. She tried without success. However, they were proofs of a doc- tor’s visit, and who than Dr. Lencia would find greater favor with Pete? She smiled grimly. At last she was to face this tempter. For every heart- ache she would avenge herself tenfold 903 -—she would break up this cursed friendship, this spell that was bringing about Pete’s undoing. Over and over she rehearsed a torrent of abuse calcu- lated to humble him to her wishes. And, so wrapped up in her scheming was she, that she failed to notice the swarthy face of a man peerimg in at the tent opening. He came unan- nounced and for a moment stood silently watching her with a look at once shrewd and compassionate. Then, as if obeying a sudden impulse, he strode in with a bluster of boots. It was the big, greasy Mexican with the glittering eyes and overplump paunch. He advanced within a pace of the bed and stopped. At the same time his contemplation of her, as half-faint- ing with dread of him she shrank against the wall, changed visibly to a crafty, expectant stare. Had Peggy been in full possession of her faculties she would have noted the singularity of this. between it and his accompanying words, clothed in the guise of friend- ship, musically low and engaging. “You bin sick, no, sefiora? I see you, reguerda, when he rains? I tak’ you in the tent? You know that time —no? You hosband die in the wagon?” She studied him fearfully, noting the flourishes of hts hands and his subse- quent shrug of shoulders before giving heed to his overtures. Then, as little by little the signifi- cance of their meaning filtered into her brain, she remembered the tragedy in the flat. Pete was dead! The knowl- edge struck her lke a blow. Thereafter she forgot the intruder. She fell back upon the pillow and thought over the startling news, and pieced together the details that had robbed her of her man. Slowly, apa- thetically, she pieced them, tracing the tragedy to its cause, while something in the dark face of her visitor showed that he had expected just such a pro- cedure. COPNICGOOOKS She would have marveled also at the striking contrast (E@)