The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 2 — page 63: what you’re looking at

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

SOUTHWEST OF THE LAW. cates of graduation from the University of Brazil’s medical college. Haggins had bidden him, very ungraciously, to attend to Phillips. He administered rather liberal stimu- lants. Phillips had instantly sunk into peaceful slumber. Haggins marked his contempt for his newly acquired physi- cian as well as Phillips by leaving them both on the steamer when he marched his peons up to administer punishment to those who had again upset Phillips’s ré- gime. Phillips was brought up wide-awake by the screams and shouts that came from the stockade. It took him a moment to realize where he was. Realization brought back the sense of responsibility. Of the battle wherein Dr. Pinhon had killed a score of the peons and wounded as many more in driving them back to the carcel for a while, Phillips, of course, knew nothing. Of the men Haggins had brought back with him from Manhaos he had seen very few. He could _reach no conclusion but that the more triumphant outcries were those. of the revolting members of the gang late- ly his own in attack upon the ones with which Haggins might be ‘trying to replace them. | | He got to his feet unsteadily. The new doctor was at hand. | “ Better lie down again,” he bade. ‘“T must get up there,” Phillips said, a trifle thickly, since the fumes of alcohol still befuddled his senses. “ Better take a little of this, then.” He produced a bottle of aromatic spir- its of ammonia. Phillips’s slight medical preparation for the jungle readily com- prehended the value of this stimulant. He drank what the doctor poured into water in a glass. Its effect was almost instantaneous. He walked a little giddily for the length of the wharf, then found himself almost as firm as ever. He took the rest of the dis- tance on a run. He had seen the burned shops. The open door of the bungalow did not at- fore since his childhood. 245 tract his interest. He supposed that the Reades, if anywhere in safety, were aboard their cruiser. He reached the stockade’s gate. The lock had been broken at some point in the affray of the night, but the gate was held from within to prevent his entrance. Enough of his old strength had returned so that a single thrust brushed the small native inside from his path. And, for the second time, he came upon a man beating a peon almost if not quite to death. The fellow, whom he did not recall having seen before, had raised his club high for a second blow upon the head of one of the natives whose arm hung limp and broken already. Phillips barely reached the spot in time to catch the upraised arm from be- hind and wrench the club from the hand that held it. The man wheeled upon him, then saw that he dealt with one of the white men of the place. ‘He tried to run,” he seemed to re- gard as explanation for the maiming he had all but finished in a killing. ‘Give me that pistol,” Phillips com- manded, seeing that the man had one. The fellow obeyed. Then, with an in- jured air, he was about to follow when Haggins descended upon the scene. “You!” His voice was the epitome of withering contempt set to shrieking music of rage. ‘‘ What in hell are you interfering for?” ‘ He’s killing the man,” snapped Phil- lips. “Get out!” snarled the more expe- rienced boss. ‘ I’m doing this.” As he spoke he struck Phillips an un- expected blow with the flat of his hand. It fell upon the slightly weaker and much weakened man’s cheek with force enough to send him reeling backward. And, be- fore he could recover his stunned facul- ties, Haggins had strode on to another part of the stockade. No man had ever slapped Phillips be- The insult brought utter rage. He followed, his brain a turmoil gf fury, with no idea what . CONNICLOOO“KS (C@