The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 1 — page 125: what you’re looking at

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

THE BRUTE, THE LADY, AND T. “ How do I know you won’t beat it back and make off with the girl?” he ex- plained at last. ‘‘ Your size must save you a great many whippings, first and last, Flanagan,” I answered him when I could, because of my anger. “ But don’t count on it too often.” At this he put back his head and roared with laughter. “Go to it, little man, go to it,” he shouted, his good humor restored at what he considered a jest. I turned and left him still chuckling. He was a half head taller than I, and nearly a hundred pounds heavier, yet I felt that some day, and that before long, he must be taught a lesson. I made my way up a steep hillside through a tangle of laurel. Partridge got up continually before me, and more than once I kicked a rabbit out of the bush. These were primeval forests and the litter of centuries obstructed the way; but at last I gained the summit of the hill I had headed for. By great good for- tune a ledge of rocks made it impossible for even the hardy pine to get a foothold here, and I saw before me a wide stretch of country reaching to a far-off range of purple hills. Slowly I swept the horizon. No gleam of white that might be a farmhouse, no hint of smoke that would indicate a rail- road, not even the silver band of a river or a break in the green sea of the forest to hold out a promise of the presence of man, met my eyes. I thought of the girl, and my heart sank. Perhaps within range of my vision there were human beings, trappers or hunters or timber-cruisers, but the chance of finding them in such country where there _ Were not even cart-paths was infinitesi- mally small. | But, I reflected, if I cannot see them, maybe I can make them see me. I would build a fire on this bare ledge where the smoke of it could be seen for miles about. I felt for my matches. I had put them 115 back in the coat Miss Norcross still: wore. So I turned back toward the pond more discouraged than ever. As I neared the spot where I had set my snares I made other and larger ones for rabbits. They were not as succulent as partridge, but were strong in food value. Arriving at the place where I had set my first snare, I could not find it. That was queer, I thought. Here apparently was the big hemlock that marked it. There was the runway the birds had | made when they alighted and ran be- neath the boughs for cover. But the snare was gone. —— Then I saw the branch to which I had made it fast. It had been broken off. There must be powerful partridge in these North Woods, I concluded. And now I come to a portion of this experience that I dislike to dwell upon. As I arrived at the heavy timber, and only the few cedars lay between me and the pond, I heard the cry of a woman. Not until that moment, I believe, had I ever known what real fear was. I found myself running for camp before even I could see what was happening. When I did my heart sank. Flanagan had returned before me. I doubt even if he had gone far on his mission after we had separated. He had caught Miss Norcross by the wrists and was looking down at her with an attempt at a teasing grin on his heavy face. She. had drawn away from him as far as she could get, and even at that distance I could see terror in every line of her form. She struggled fiercely to break from his grasp, but with as little effect as if she had been held by clamps of iron. Even then I realized that the great brute had, after all, some craft about him. He had first made sure by insinuation and threat that I would not return and had returned early himself. I ran on over the soft moss at top speed, and, to give courage to the girl, forfeited the advantage of surprise and shouted as I ran. ecomiichoolke (E@)