The Argosy, Vol. 75, No. 4 — page 213: what you’re looking at

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

DESERT LOOT. see ‘im. Carajo! You call that righ’? \Vhen he rob me? “ Now, thees way I help you, sefiora. ! got two horse’ near here, now, one for you an’ one for me, eh? Pete he die, an’ Jim Miles mebbe the mspec- tador get’ im. Ver’ well. “You go from here to-nigh’ weeth me. I take you, but nobody know where, *cos I know thees countr-ry. In fife minutes you go, an’ you weel be safe from govern’men’ mans, but you mos’ tell me where~is thees con- itrabando first. Pete tole you, an’ you know. What you say?” For many seconds Peggy was speechless with disappointment and rage. Was this the support she had _ expected? To have a scoundrel make terms with her ag if she were one of his kind! To be accused as the cus- todian of tainted merchandise by a thief, because of the closeness of her relationship to another ~thief! Machado was gloating over her, seemingly anticipating her acceptance of the conditions, when she found her tongue. “Say, you!” she hissed, pointing toward the tent entrance; “ d’you see that door? - Well, get out, and stay out! If you don’t, Pll call Dr. Lencia! Get out, I said!” With a muttered imprecation, the Mexican rose to his feet. There was a baleful glitter in his eye. “So!” he gritted viciously. “I know why you no wan’ tell me. You like thees Dr. Lencia, an’ you goin’ try to tell heem, no? You tink he let you go free. But, no, sir! Thees contrabando is mine, you un’stand? Pete he steal it, but now it is mine! ““An’ you goin’ tell me where is it! Look! Santa Maria! You no tell me, right ‘way, I keel thees gringo, Dr. Lencia! See, I keel heem!” He whipped out a six-shooter and flourished it before her face. After this he stood, a horrible, men- acing creature, while paralyzed with terror at the tragic turn of affairs, . say! 915 Peggy could only stare at him dumbly. An interval passed, painfully slow. Then, by degrees, one thought assumed enormous proportions in the woman’s mind, clamored at her nerve centers, and quickened her heart like a mad stimulant—Dr. Lencia. Cold grew her body, as she spurred up her faculties to meet the frightful emergency. She must thwart this monster, helpless though she _ was. The advisability of raising an alarm suggested itself, but she dismissed it summarily. Machado would stop at nothing. He would kill her, even, as a means of carrying out his revenge. Further, since he had been so desperately bold as to make known his intentions, she could not, now, hope to parley with him. save by yielding to his demands. He was of the race that follows up an advantage to a passionate extreme. Yet, it was along this very line of thought that she evolved a plan. It was a desperate plan, and while its risk froze her blood at the conse- quences of failure, it pointed a sure way out of the dilemma. Again Machado spoke. “Well, you goin’ tell me?” he breathed hoarsely. “Horry up! Spik, or I feex him—you too! What you ! 9? Peggy nodded. “Yes, I—I will. . But, ’m—I’m sick, can’t you see? I—can’t take you to where—where the things are hid. PU—Ill make you out a—a map, if you want.” An expression of filthy greed re- placed the ferocity in the Mexican’s face. His mustache bristled odiously under the impulse of his malevolent smile. “Go on, make ‘im. An’ queek, too!” he commanded, backing to the center of the room. Drawing a blanket around her, Peggy got out of bed. Weakly she made her way to the table, pulled open the drawer, and took out a sheet of EMO MICO < (©)