The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 1 — page 131: what you’re looking at

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

THE -BRUTE; THE LADY, the hay. So take it from me, if you’re looking for fight—it’s fight you'll get.” He paused for breath, and then contin- ued: “One thing more. I’ve climbed higher trees than that big oak, so watch out.” “ Thanks,” I said. “I will.” I had found out what I wanted. It was to be war. ‘That, after all, was better than an uncertain and treacherous peace. I went over to the balloon, cut another strip of cotton from it, and filled it with leaves. The girl was waiting as I ap- proached the big oak. I think she must have been watching to see what would happen at the fire. “Your bed, milady,” I called. She was silent fora moment. I did not know but what my familiarity had of- fended her, but she called presently: “There is the cord. I can never thank you enough.” ‘Have you eaten your rabbit?” I cross-examined. “ Every bit,’”’ she answered promptly. I made fast her line and she drew the bundle of leaves into the car. “Where will you sleep?” she asked. ‘“ Never fear. I shall be near,” I as- sured her. “Tt was not that. I feared he might —do something to you.” “Don’t worry about that, either,” I answered somewhat boastfully. ‘In the next encounter I hope to give a better account of myself.” I had already decided, however, that I would leave no step untaken to secure the further safety of the girl. [ returned to the balloon after leaving Miss Nor- cross and got several lengths of rope. Out of these I made an enormous snare beneath the car. An end of this I fastened to the oak, the other I carried to a depres- sion on the edge of the pond, a hundred feet away, where I proceeded to make my bed of leaves with more balloon cloth for a covering. This I did with the greatest stealth, glancing from time to time in the direc- tion of the fire to see that Brute Flana- AND TI. 121 gan, who still sat blinking- before it like a great owl, was not watching my move- ments. Then I settled myself for the night. From earliest boyhood had been impressed on me the ignominy of a sentry sleeping at his post. Never until that night had I realized what a perfectly natural thing it was to do this. I had been without sleep the previous night; I had passed a strenuous day full of unac- customed exertion. Now as I lay on my soft bed of leaves with the balloon cotton keeping off the chill of the night air, I found it well-nigh a physical impossibility to keep awake, in spite of the danger to the Bil and myself of sleep. Fearful that I might doze off in spite of any will power, I tied the end of = snare line to my wrist. My next recollection is that of the tre- mendous jerk that nearly tore my arm from my body. It was a rude awakening, but a thorough one. I knew at once what had happened, even had I not heard Brute Flanagan from the direction of the car, cursing hor- ribly and prophesying what he would do to me when he caught me. | Prowling about under the car, he had caught a foot in the noose. Believing that I had hidden beneath the tree, he had run in that direction and had been brought up with an abruptness that had thrown him to the ground and _ nearly maimed me as the line tautened. ‘If you are looking for me, I am over here,” I called craftily. He came running toward me with a si- lence that was more ominous than his threats. And then he reached the end of the cord with which I had made the noose fast to the tree. I was startled out of my hate and fear of the man at the crash with which he came to earth. The impact was terrific. For a moment he lay silent, and I thought he was knocked senseless. Then he groaned, or rather grunted with pain, and@got slowly up. I felt him fumbling with the ropes COnMICLOOOKS (E@)