The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 2 — page 61: what you’re looking at

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

SOUTHWEST OF THE LAW, The whole works I made the jun- cel when I broke away. turned out to chase me. gle—and got lost.” “Made the jungle!” still shrieked the furious lover, and added all the rough epithets of a rough, hard man. “ And left her to take care of herself!” Phillips went silent. He was too weak to quarrel, too angry to attempt any fur- ther explanation. It had not occurred to him that any one would consider him a coward for what he had done. His very run for the jungle had been at imminent risk of his life which, at least, would have been safe enough in the carcel. It had been the best that any human being could possibly do under the circumstances. Haggins stalked off, came back to ask more questions, walked away in rage too strong even for his most violent vocab- ulary, then returned once more. And Phillips, his tired mind still a little in the clouds above mere personal grievances, could not help but admire the very fury of the man. It was terrible, almost horrible, certain- ly awful. It was as powerful, as irresist- ible, as big as the man himself—the wrath of a demi-god. And there was no Ca- pacity for fear in it, save the fear for what might have happened already to others than himself. The engine of the boat was crowded almost to the bursting of the boiler. Long before the vessel had rounded the last turn, Haggins ordered the blast of the whistle. Then he ordered it stopped, lest it use up too much steam. When, at last, the little boat reached the dock, Haggins made a six-foot leap ashore, and had already ascertained that the cruiser was empty and stripped of everything valuable it contained before a deck-hand had thrown a rope. Then, with drawn pistols, eyes aflame, without a pause to call others to follow him, he dashed to the land, up the narrow plaza past the burned wrecks of what had cost him a year’s labor and his company a mil- lion odd dollars, until he came to the bun- galow. 243 That it was standing, its door open, had attracted his attention from the start. He found the room empty, save for the stretcher hung between two chairs, its withered and almost lifeless burden sleep- ing in oblivion of all that had gone on about him. The dusky guard had peered from the window, seen the smoke of the steamer as it rounded the last turn, and run as if pursued by devils for the stock- ade where the whole outfit sat in council with terror-stricken faces, unable to de- cide whether to break for the jungle and its perils, or to stay and plead for mercy from one who had not the slightest knowl- edge of the word’s meaning. All thought of fight had seemingly been shaken from them. Haggins’s approach had brought them to their senses. An instant the big man stood still, de- bating whether to waken the frail sleeper or to pass on in further search. Then, from behind the storeroom door, which had been closed for Dr. Reade’s sake, he heard the girl’s voice: “Yes, doctor, I forgive you. I think you were mad. You have been good to my father. Now—you must let me ban- dage—” Haggins drew a long breath. The voice that interrupted Miss “Reade? S was uarey audible: ‘“ No—I wasn’t even good to him. I could have had him on his feet—in a month. I—kept him sick—to keep you. No—let it bleed. I deserve to die. I—” ‘ Kept him sick to keep you!” The words sent the hot blood of jealous rage to Haggins’s face. He flung open the door. He saw Evelyn on her knees before the prostrate form of the native doctor, who was evidently very weak from the loss of the blood that darkened the floor. Her hands were thrown up in horror at the last revelation of the In- dian’s perfidy. ‘You deserve to die!’’ Haggins uttered in a tone deep and hoarse with wrath. ‘“‘ And you shall!” His automatic was pointed down at the man’s breast. CONMUC VOOKS - (C©@)