The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 1 — page 135: what you’re looking at

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

THE BRUTE, THE LADY, AND I. ing. The sun had come out warmly, driving the mist from the pond. The scent of dew on leaves came fragrantly to the nostrils as we went through the forest. Fear of Brute Flanagan which, whether I had acknowledged it or not, had been with me, had vanished. Brute force had been subdued, if not by intelligence, at least with the aid of it. But greatest of all, I, had made the discovery that I could be content any- where, under any circumstances, with Elizabeth Norcross by my side. From time to time, as we made our way through the forest, I stole a glance at her. The color had come back into her cheeks with the exercise, her eyes sparkled with a new eagerness and hope. Her lithe body had recovered its resil- lency. Youth had come back to its own, and she swung along: beside me as lightly and strongly as if she had slept on her own bed those last two nights and eaten three meals a day. I caught myself hoping that the vast stretch of country that could be seen from the lookout hill would be as bare of in- dication of human occupancy this day as it had the day before, and that our signal- fire would fail. of its purpose—at least for the present. I pictured a rescue, the end of this adventure, home-coming, settling down again to the grind of teaching, and last but after all, the one thing that made the thought unbearable, separation from this girl. No more the sense of her presence through the day, the sight of her slow smile, the dependence of her, the right to plan for her, to provide for her, to fight for her! After all, what was life worth without these? My day-dreams were dissipated to an extent when we had come to the snares. They were empty. We could not live without food. How humiliating to reflect on that! All 125 these high hopes, desires, and aspirations at the mercy of the stomach. ‘The girl watched me as I examined my empty lines. “Poor things! I am almost glad of it. I hate to think that they must die that we may live.” “What of the amiable cow and the gamboling lamb?” I reminded her grimly. I was more worried than I cared that she should know. ‘“ Yes, but out here in the forest, free, where life must be so joyous—to die—” I glanced up at her with a quick fear at my heart. What if she were a seeress? Men had died of hunger in this country, I knew. ‘ “Come,” I said gruffly. ‘“ Let us push on and light our fire.” We made our way up the hillside to- ward the bare rock at its summit. It had not seemed a difficult climb alone, but the girl’s skirts were very much in the way. I aided her over the more difficult places, and at such times the clasp of her hand made me wonder at the skill of the Creator in making woman attractive to man. I reflected that in such an environment, under such circumstances, it must be a plain woman indeed that would not attract the male of the species. Was there any wonder then that this girl, endowed with an exquisiteness of form and feature, and greater than that gifted with a frank and open nature and generous heart—was there any wonder that the touch of her hand went to my head like wine? We stood at last on the bare ledge of the rock. The fire had died out and I collected brush and started another at once. After it was going well I piled on green boughs, for it was smoke and not fire that we needed now. thick, unwavering column in the still air. I glanced back at the girl. She stood, shading her eyes with her hands, slowly circling the horizon. When she had at last completed the circle her arms dropped pathetically to her side. COMMEMOOLKS * It, rose in a - (E@)