The Argosy, Vol. 75, No. 4 — page 68: what you’re looking at

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

770 seemed to know that the spring wuz wuth nothin’. An’ it’s the only place fur miles whar critters kin be watered. He hed ’bout a’ much sense ’bout busi- ness as a prairie-dawg. Ef he'd hed any more he’d never a bin traded out uv his share in the mine by Al Watson an’ Nick Bullen.” Radford pulled up his pony with a jerk. “Who?” he asked, scarcely sure he heard aright. Here, under the sky of velvet blue, lighted by stars that almost sang, so radiant with life and brightness were they, he was hearing of his strange visitor and uninvited house-guest. “Do you know Nick Bullen?” he questioned again. “Prospected with him fur four years ’fore I tuk to ranchin’,”’ Red an- swered. “ But I ain’t heerd uv him fur fifteen year or more. Bullen an’ Silsby ust to be pardners "fore Gill come out. ‘They camped on ali these hyah ranges. Frenchy come strollin’ ‘long from nowhere in pertic’lar an’ go- in’ to the same place. “ Him an’ Al Watson an’ Bullen got hold of some minin’ claims out yander, an’ Frenchy sole out to Bullen fur this hyah pile uv rocks that’s got nuthin’ but the spring wuth a red. Silsby al- lays sorter thought he'd oughter hed the spring. Gill wants it. An’ the gal’s got it! An’ they'll be the devil a doin’ when Silsby finds out “bout this hyah!”’ Red drew his hand across his fore- head as if hard thinking and long talk- ing wore on him. He was worriedly anticipating the many difficulties al- ready a part of his work as foreman increased again and again as the ran- cor between the ranches broke into open war. That “ gal” and the spring would be the storm-center. “ Sykes is a good-looker. *bout git her to—” “Oh, no, he won’t!’’ Ted cut in with cold calm. , “’Cause you ain't a wantin’. him to git nothin’ from her ain’t no good sign He'll jes’ THE ARGOSY. thet he won’t!’’ Red commented, hit- ting the nail on the head with a pre- cision that forced Radford into gloomy silence and gloomy fears. | The name he had impulsively given the little lady bade fair to represent too truly what she was destined to be to him—little Miss Bitter-Sweet. Sykes was young and manly looking. He had come down that trail as if he knew it; come as if he had before found’ Mlle. le Fevre at the spring, or as if he followed to take care of her. He must be on friendly and visiting terms at the house. Suddenly Bess, like a tall, beautiful statue, rose in his mind beside the vivid little girl of the Apache Spring. Be- fore he analyzed why his desire went so wunerring toward the _ iridescent woman he was lost in an ecstasy of re- membering how she had clung to him and trembled in his arms. As for Natalie, she was rushing along the trail toward the Stone House, followed by Tom Sykes, to whom she would not speak. “Ma tanie! Ma tante! are you?” she called. Miss Thorpe rose and came to the edge of the stone veranda that ran along the front of the house. The next moment Natalie had buried her head on the friendly shoulder and was sha- king. | “Ma tante, who ees here, do you theenk?”’ she cried, lifting her face to show the laughter rioting with her eyes and lips and the single dimple in her left cheek. ‘‘ Eet was too funny! He theenks he ees so old and beeg, and me so leetle! And I have telled heem he may not speak to me, he ees too lee- tle potato!” Alice Thorpe spent a good deal of time during the day and night trying to keep in touch and understanding with the flights of fancy in which her little companion engaged. But this was beyond her. She could not im- agine to whom Natalie referred. “Whom do you mean, Natalie?” she asked. Where comicbooks —. ae el (E@) » ae