The Argosy, Vol. 75, No. 4 — page 228: what you’re looking at

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

930 around in his hand. He wants to be ready to take up opportunities before they can gallop past. There were many opportunities for an enterprising sheep- herder in Co- manche that night, and two, of course, can see more chances than one. What- ever it was that the first comer had on his mind in connection with the lady in the tent, he forgot it in his eagerness to serve his friend. IV. One Horsk made it around a little after breakfast. Wherever that shrewd > old Big Buffalo was hiding himself, it could not have been far. One Horse grinned as he handed Jennie’s little camera to Mrs. Tree. She backed away a little, her arms lifted implor- ingly. “My daughter,’ she demanded — ‘where is my child?” One ‘Horse regarded her with un- moved expression. He put the camera down on a box and felt of his back hair to see if his feather was follow- ing in the accustomed place. The men of the party leaned forward in threat- ening attitude, and One Horse looked at them with his civilized smile. “My child,” repeated Mrs. Tree, grasping the young man by the arm, shaking him as if to free his tongue— “where is my child?” “Lady, you can search me,’ said One Horse mildly. | “What a’ you givin’ us?’ demand- ed the sergeant sternly.“ Didn’t you come here and say the old man’d give her up if we'd send him all of that there cheese—say ? ” ‘“ My daughter, my poor little girl!” groaned Mrs. Tree, leaning on the en- gineer, who fanned her with his hat. “That box,” said One Horse briefly. ‘But where’s the girl?” asked the sergeant. “I’m here to tell you, my friend, you'll either pre-duce that there girl or youll hand back that cheese! Do you git me?”’ | ‘Old man he ain’t got no girl,” de- ‘ THE ARGOSY. clared One Horse. “ What you givin’ me? Old man he’s got two wives; don’t want no more.” “Oh, my poor, poor child!” said Mrs. Tree, sinking back a little heavier on the engineer’s shoulder. He looked at the others appealingly, fanning like he was starting a fire. Around the corner of the little land office there came a wagon, flinging the white dust from its tires like a Mis- sourt River stern- wheeler drips its cataract of drops. On the front seat was a long-backed young man in a wide hat, and on the other seat was a little old lady who looked like she’d been fried. By the side of her was Jennie, as fresh as a new potato, waving her hand in spark- ling innocence. Kisses, tears, embraces, and all that. Then introductions. It was Mr, Ray and his delightful mother. “The river got lost some way,” ex- plained Jennie, wrinkling her little forehead, still unable to figure it out. ‘lca. and I ran. and I ran. “Then I went to sleep. When I woke up I ran again, and I came to Mrs. Ray’s place; they’ve got the loveliest sheep- ranch, you know. He’s a college man ’’—she whispered to her mother— “isn’t he just gr-and?”’ On the floor of the tent was- the paper which had bound the package of limburger. Jennie sniffed the scent when she entered. “Huh, limburger!”’ said she. “[ wouldn’t knock—” sergeant. began the ** Sh-h-h! ’? warned her mother, lift- ing a silencing finger. “Never again,’ declared Jennie. ‘Say, did you ever smell three thou- sand sheep? ”’ Miss Jennie having been restored to the arms of her mother, who had been so shaken by her loss that she hadn’t looked into a glass but four times in three days, it would seem that the in- cident would of itself close and be dis- missed from the public mind. But no. Time had gone by for tele- CS GOmIcboOoO (©)