The Argosy, Vol. 75, No. 4 — page 55: what you’re looking at

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

— MESQUITE RANCH, at “ monshure,” while Benson cringed under the ridicule, knowing he could never recover from the title. | Natalie gazed at the roaring men with eyes that blazed. <A silence fell over them as, one by one, they looked ‘and saw her; she had blossomed into color and animation as vivid as one of the flaming cactus - flowers of the deserts. “T am Natalie le Fevre,” she said almost as 1f she defied them to acknowl- edge so distinguished a person that they were daring to laugh at anything con- nected with her. ‘“ I have come to take possession of my inheritance from my Oncle Phillipe le Fevre.” 3 Benson dropped his lower jaw and almost dropped his end of the cot. The men around uttered surprised exclama- tions. Only Tom Sykes, his eyes fastened on the brilliant little girl, seemed unsurprised by the announce- ment. “Frenchy Fill-up,’’ Benson said at last, as if he needed to put into words the nickname that was in his mind. “You ain’t Frenchy—” He went no further. Natalie was looking at him with little red-brown flames of wrath darting from her eyes. “You are one of the beasts!”’. she accused. “‘ You may not help me! Put down the cot!” Sheer inability to make the lightning mental change she suggested, to realize that she was storming at him who had been smiling, he hung on to the cot. She leaped from it like a bird driven from its nest. and raging in its small way at the indignity. “T weel not be carried by heem! ” she cried as Alice tried to soothe her. “You are the cowboys who do not know what ees fine and delicate! When my oncle offered you the hospitality of hees fine house you make fun and insult heem! You have driven heem from hees home, and he ees dead. But ! am hees niece. Do you think I weel let you help me? Non, non!” Benson drooped in the fire of her 157 scorn. The others shifted and quietly crowded behind each other when a chance offered. . “ Oh, I see you! You cannot hide, you beeg cowboy! ” she scoffed. ‘“ You are the large beasts not knowing that the beauty and the @legance are food for your souls. You have no soul, per- haps! Eets would be better to feed them, eef you had, than to fatten your beeg, ugly bodies! ” Natalie was sounding the key-note of her philosophy of life. Benson thought she must have overfed her own soul and dieted her frail little body that trembled and throbbed and glowed as if it were being assailed by the lib- erty-craving soul of her. He was not offended at being called a large, ugly beast. It struck him that that was what they all looked like compared to the slim, fine, vibrating little lady whose eyes were like brown jewels and whose skin was so thin and white that it al- most showed her thoughts right through. ‘“I—say, I wuz at Frenchy Fill- up’s—” Again the little lady stopped his blundering speech. No apology was permitted if it began in that way. “Call heem not that name evaire again! I weel not permit it!” If any of the men saw any humor in the slip of a girl, upheld by her in- domitable spirit, bossing them so vig- orously, they did not show it. ‘They looked preternaturally grave. Sykes pulled his sombrero off of his crisp, dark hair and swept them with a glance that read their sentiments. ‘“Tt’s a go, boys! Never again! No Frenchy Fill-up for ours! Say?” he shouted. . “ Never again!” was the unanimous reply as shabby felt hats flew into the © bright-yellow air. The men looked at Natalie, expecting approval. But she regarded them stern- ly, her face white and the fire in her eyes quite dead. “Eet ees just,” she observed; and CORMICLOO “Ss (C@)