The Argosy, Vol. 75, No. 4 — page 204: what you’re looking at

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

906 lently, rolling a cigarette as if he used the action for purposes of delay. In this respect he was singularly sly. Having dissipated the feather-edge of her wrath, and encountering no oppo- sition to her opinions, Peggy took an- other tack. “Whose camp is this, and where are we, anyway?” “One fellow, heem here ev'ry year —to hunt. I see heem way off thees morning. J watch heem two miles, then J come back queek. I know you here. Thees is Tecolote Cafion.” He said the last meaningly, and shot her a shrewd glance, as if he counted upon some change of countenance to attend the information. When this did not happen, his air of lassitude vanished suddenly. He hitched the stool closer and assumed a determined pose. “Senora Gilbert, I wan’ tell you something,’ he asserted in a brisk voice. “ You know that day it rains? Well, I follow you that day. I follow you from Dogout. I tole you jus’ now, Pete an’ me comut-panieros, pard- ners, fife years. You know this coat? Look, is it not from heem? ”’ He swung in his seat that she might inspect the garment. “Then, you know [ spik tr-ruth. But, I follow you that day. Ver’ well. You, his wife, sefiora, an’ you know that bis- ness—how we get silk, cigaros, di’ monds from Mexico, no? He tell you, sehora, no? About the contrabando— smoggling, you call heem? It is so, no?.”’ He paused, his dark face aglow with rapt expectancy, his eyes holding hers by the very power of their question- ing. . ‘ Smugglers!” exclaimed Peggy hoarsely, starting from her blankets. He nodded. For the fraction of a minute com- plex emotions played over the woman’s face, as, struggling between incredulity and dread, she strove for utterance, Her first impulse was to give this gloat- ing scoundrel the lie. But the humor THE ARGOSY. passed before a morbid hankering af- ter particulars, that was, in part, ac- centuated by her fixed purpose to demand proofs of the accusation. “Oh, Pete tell you orright,’” contin- ued Machado, with a knowing wink. “You say Dr. Lencia is blame that Pete is kill’? Mira! Pete lie to you! Dr. Lencia no drink! He tell yo’ hos- band all time, ‘ Br-race up. You mar- rie’ man an’ you do not do righ’. Some day you be sor-rl.’ Pete tole me thees, an’ he laugh. If you wan’ know, Jeem Miles an’ Pete figh’ because of the contrabando. For fife years Miles he take it from us. All the time we br-ing it thees place, Tecolote Cafion. “ Las’ time we haf’ $17,000 di’- monds, silk, an’ cigaros, no? Pete steal ‘im—he steal all, no? Jeem Miles say, ‘Where you put *im?’ Pete, he say, ‘ Gover’men’ man fine ’im an’ take ‘im. Ino can help it.’ They figh’, no? Pete is kill’, an’ ev’rybody tink Pete no can pay a-store bill, that is why. Madre de Dios! It is the $17,000 of contrabando he steal! Oh, Pete he tell you, orright. Come, sefora, what heem say?” The earnestness in his tones and his evident desire for a mutual understand- ing, convinced Peggy of the truth of his allegations. Her husband, a smug- gler ! In the great Southwest, one of that wretched tribe of men who transgress the laws of nations, skulk in the des- ert places, shun their fellows, and trav- el in the dark of the moon. Such a man was an out and out thief! But the Mexican was speaking, and now, there was a trace of bitterness in his tones. “That is why I follow you. It is my bisness. Chinforras! Pete rob me too, lak’ he do Jeem Miles, don’ he? We t’ree pardners, no? JI no get noting. I follow you, find out where he hide the contrabando. Now, he dead, I come see you.”’ Mumbling in an aggrieved way, he lit another cigarette. Just here Peggy reached a logical COPMICLOOOKS ls aa 5 amet g® , com