The Argosy, Vol. 75, No. 4 — page 215: what you’re looking at

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

DESERT LOOT. she again had possession of the shot- sun, did she breathe easier. Afterward, it was only the work of a moment to hurry into her shoes and pin the blanket more securely around her. euish the candle, her judgment caution- ing her to seek the darkness, when she remembered that she had made no ex- amination of her weapon. According- ly, she threw open the breech. As in the case,of Machado’s six-shooter, it was without shells! Peggy grew sick with consternation. Feebly at first, then desperately, she forced herself into a search of her quarters for ammunition, but without result. At last, she snuffed the light and stole out to the other tent. Here she continued her exploration, but not one shell could she find. Exhausted, yet determined to carry out her original intentions, she took up a position just within the teepee and kept a sharp eyeupon the cafion-bed. Then the minutes dragged by filled with the noises of the coming dawn. And while she gave keen ear to every sound, she made a mental review of the night’s events and the staggering disclosures that had sprung from them. Dr. Lencia, her benefactor, the man for whom she had felt such imme- diate esteem and liking, and who had spoken his heart to her so fervently, stood revealed as the Federal officer —the self-same special agent for whom she had entertained such hor- ror, and from whose clutches she had planned to escape. ‘ There was no fear in her heart, now. Rather was there a deep sense of disappointment, and a _ burning shame that she had allowed herself to be captivated so easily by one whose only interest in her was the execution of a sworn duty. It was hard to believe that every manifestation of solicitude, the con- fession of love, even, that had embar- rassed while it pleased her, was given This done, she turned to extin- solely to win her confidence that it might be later betrayed. Yet, from every indication, this was evidently the truth. Dr. Lencia cared nothing for her. He was not of her plane. Why should he deign to give her more than a glance when, without doubt, the fairest of womankind would be happy to sue for his favor? - She was only plain Peggy Gilbert. Like a desert weed was she, tough of fiber, unbeautiful, and unblessed with any worthy*qualities except that of be- ing able to live in the face of the worst and make the living worth while. She was a toiler, that’s what she was, ready and willing to carve a home from the rough block of poverty, to fashion it from the scraps of a hand- to-mouth existence. Would Dr.-Lencia be likely to find admiration for the possessor of such a mean dower? The answer was un- conditional. As well hope to brighten the sun with a cabbage. But it was one thing to know that her feelings had been outraged, and quite another to work up resentment against the author of the wrong. She gazed dry-eyed over the spectral land- scape when she could have wept in utter abandonment. The letters were incontestable proofs of her paragon’s deceit. They told the story of her husband’s lawlessness and incriminated her. She was regarded as a conspirator alone knowing, now that Pete was dead, the whereabouts of a cargo of smuggled goods. | Nor were her troubles to end here. Feliciano Machado also believed in her guilt and had shown his hand in no uncertain way. He was as much her enemy as was Dr. Lencia, although one whom she had greater reason to fear, since he was influenced by pe- cuniary greed. While it was obvious that he had revealed the true character of the practitioner in the expectation that she would, through dread of the law, confide in him the hiding place of the EORIC OOOKS 917° (E@)