The Argosy, Vol. 75, No. 4 — page 206: what you’re looking at

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

908 certain he would for not acceding to his demands, she would use his own weapons against him. However, since he had set no time for his return, it was evident that there was little danger of the government in- spector’s early ‘arrival. As matters stood, Machado would rather be in- clined to take precautionary steps to insure her safety, in the expectation of winning her patronage. She sighed wearily, while there arose in her mind more proofs of Pete’s duplicity. Again, came the sig- nificance of his prolonged visits to Sand Dyke Bar, his sprees, and the tales of Dr. Lencia’s hospitality. Machado had upheld the good char- acter of the physician to the point of branding Pete a liar. He had main- tained that Lencia really sought to bring her husband to an understanding of his shortcomings, and would have had her believe the practitioner a para- gon of rectitude. She sneered her skep- ticism. | No doubt he was a swashbuckler of the first water, since, as far as she knew, he boasted only the tributes of a scamp and—Pete. In short, it was Pete’s word against Machado’s, and, in her opinion, Dr. Lencia remained the profligate. Of the alleged trips to Sand Dyke Bar she was not so certain. It occur- red to her that they had been alto- gether too frequent, ‘a circumstance which icaused her no little concern, inasmuch as she cared to keep Pete’s memory green with some proof of his veracity. But, looking back over the past five years, she saw only too plainly that he had been continually absent from home, sometimes two weeks at a time, and, while he did nothing, always had money. She had questioned him more than once and he had told her of his profi- ciency with cards—and a successful ésambler was not to be despised. Then, within the last year, it had been Dr. Lencia. : THE ARGOSY. The suspicion would not down, and Machado’s statements pressed upon her for recognition as truths. Was it possible that for five years she had believed the manufactured narratives of this man, her husband, while he smuggled over the border, a tool to Jim Miles, the very man who had accomplished her disgrace in Dug- out? And was she to be further hounded by the third member of this villainous crew, this black demon, whose badge of identification was a canvas coat— her love-gift to a supposedly honest man? She was still in the grip of these tormenting thoughts when footsteps reached her ears. A moment later she was looking into the kindly face of her host. “Good morning,” he said pleasant- ly, tossing a string of grouse on the table, and standing his gun in a cor- ner. “ How is our sick lady and her appetite? JI had exceptional luck to- day, and they’re as fat as butter-balls. Open your mouth—bully. Now, the pulse. Heavens alive, what a convales- cent! J dare say the profession would be pastime itself were its clientele blessed with your recuperative pow- ers.’ He talked on, telling her of the glo- rious sunrise upon the vast desert to the east, the richness of chromatic blends, and the witchery of distance and earth outline. “TI spent some time looking at the spot where I first met you,’ he said tentatively, deviating from his descrip- tive discourse. ‘‘ Have you thought over the circumstances? ”’ She smiled faintly. “‘A little. I don’t know ‘just how you found me, or much of anything except that [ll never be able to pay you back. I would have died out there.”’ While she spoke, she marveled at her articulation. Unconsciously, she had fallen back upon her schoolday erammar, in obedience to the human conceit that bids us give token of our COMM, €9O© S SPS Se = Rp += & ae Tr (C@)