The Argosy, Vol. 83 No. 1 — page 111: what you’re looking at

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

CHAPTER I. A BLUNT DEMAND. HE camp-fire, encouraged by a few drops of petrol, shot up bravely un- der the trees, and caused its maker to leap back with something between a cough and an oath. Some twenty paces distant, his tall, lithe form silhouetted against a crimson sunset, stood a second man, his gaze intent on something in the lake below. The man by the fire, having smothered the too-eager flames with a brush of green undergrowth, sat down with his back against a tree. With a contented sigh he drew forth a pipe and began stuffing in tobacco. “What the deuce are you mooning about over there, Saville?’’ he observed in the drawling accents of a man who hardly ex- pects a reply. ‘You look like Mephisto- pheles, red limelight and all. Come and be sociable. Smoke the pipe of peace.” The other started and gave a slow smile. The crimson glow in the western sky, now fading rapidly to amber and rose, lit up his face and glinted ruddily on the few buckles and buttons about his person, giving color to his comrade’s suggestion. They had pitched their camp almost on the edge of a bluff overlooking a lake and it was on the very margin of the former that Saville now stood. He lingered a little C. Omale while longer until the amber and rose had faded to a mere bar of orange, where the outline of the distant woods across the lake met the sky. Then he too drew forth his pipe and struck a match. Immediately in the gloom below there sprang into life an answering spark of light, tiny, instantaneous and silent, but enough. Saville gave a contented sigh. Then he stalked to the fire. “Oh, you have come at last,” grunted his companion. ‘“‘Egad, I was all but asleep.”’ Saville made no reply but seated him- Self, also with his back to a tree, directly opposite the other. Then he stretched out a long leg and dexterously maneuvered the fire into a comfortable blaze, not fierce enough to be unpleasant, yet brisk enough to illumine the countenances of the men. “Coulson Stanbury,” said Saville sud- denly, in the staccato accents of a man whose nerves are at high tension, and the other stiffened at the sound of his voice, “T have something to say to you.” The man addressed stared at him in sur- prise for a moment and then leaned back again with a little laugh which hardly rang true. “Say away then,” he returned. shall not be interrupted, I guess.” “No,” replied Saville slowly, between whiffs of his pipe, “that is why I have put off this little talk until now.” “We ior COMMICLOOOK (C@)