The Argosy, Vol. 75, No. 4 — page 203: what you’re looking at

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

DESERT LOOT. She steadied herself to say: “That’s mighty nice of you, Mr. Machado, and I ain’t never goin’ to forget what yer’ve done. And—and, of course, you buried Pete?” “T wait the Dogout stage,” he in- formed her, after muttering “his regrets over the smallness of the services. “I take Pete to Tin-Can Spring, where is the road. One man, Dr. Lencia, feex it, pack ’im to Dogout.” “Dr. Lencia!”’ Machado smiled encouragingly. “Shuah. .. Heem™ say, too, *:Poor Pete, I tole ’im so, an’ Heem ver’ sor-ry, [ know. It is bet- ter yo’ hosband go the campo-santo— how you say ?—cemetery, sefiora.”’ He appeared to be searching her face after this, as if he expected some sign to follow the double meaning of his remark. But its significance had slipped her notice. She was gazing at the patch of green hillside that presented itself through the tent entrance, her brows knit, her mouth pursed in perplexed thought. “Thees nice place,” tendered the man, in an effort to break her silence, passing a cursory glance over the in- terior. “It is clean an’—” Peggy interrupted him. | “What did he mean by, ‘ Poor Pete, { told him so,’ and all that? ’’ She was looking at him now, almost severely. “T dunno,” he admitted. “ He say it, an’ he give the driver ten dollar. Dr. Lencia, lak’ me—he lak’ help hees frien’s.” “Oh, yer know him, then?” “Shuah. But not ver’ well. sometime—”’ “Well, is he the good fellow they say, that wears fine duds, and talks to yer in book lingo? One of them tin- horn sports, so to speak? ”’ Her tones were pronouncedly bitter and the glitter in her eye gave indica- tion of a brewing storm. The Mexi- can straightened slowly in his seat. He looked away with an enigmatical smile, crooking his long atms above his head in a prodigious stretch. Heem, now he dead.’ 905 “Dr. Lencia, I tink, all r-right,”’ he evaded, a convincing ring in his voice. ‘ See, he good to Pete, now—- he good to Pete many times. May- be—”’ “Good and rotten!” snapped Peg- gy, her unconquerable hatred of the physician wiping away the last vestige of fear she had entertained for her visitor. ‘“[ know how he poured whisky into Pete. Yes, he did, fed it to him for the fun of gettin’ him drunk. Every blessed trip that Pete took to Sand Dyke Bar it was treatin’ from the min- ute he got there till the minute he left. “Who put up the money, d’ye sup- pose? Did yer ever know Pete Gil- bert—and you're a friend of his, yer say—to have money to treat? Yer can’t tell me! Didn’t I used to talk and talk to him, and beg him not to go to the Bar, and to not hang ‘round this Dr. Lencia? “And what would he do? He'd come back. full to the eyes. Then, it was Dr. Lencia here, and Dr. Lencia there, and him apeing a lot of stuck- up ways, and tryin’ out a rigamarole of didoes an’ sassiety stunts from morning till night until I was crazy. “Tf you want to know so bad, this shyster jest about broke up my home, and was the death of- Pete! Dye mean to sit there and tell me that Jim Miles would ’a’ had a look-in if Pete hadn't been satcherated that day? “And, he had jest come from bein’ with Dr. Lencia two nights before! That’s how I feel about your pill- pedler, and yer kin tell him so. Yes, and yer kin say for me that [ ain't makin’ no secret of huntin’ him up one of these fine days—him and Jim Miles. They'll think they’ve been shot with pack-saddles time [ get through with them!” In her excitement she had risen to a sitting posture; now, having deliv- ered herself of so much, she settled back, glaring her defiance. But the Mexican made no response. As a peace offering he smirked indo- “S) Gomichoo (E@)