Argosy, Vol. 111, No. 1 — page 77: what you’re looking at

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

HIS SIDE nearest apology of a chair. She had almost reached the limit of her endurance. Deaf- ening, insistent noises surged through her brain—their burden the repetition of just two words: ‘“ Save—Neil—save—Neil— save—Neil—” To her benumbed senses they were the only two words in her whole vocabulary that had any meaning. An alarm-clock on the slanting mantel, that looked as if it might have been rescued from some rubbish heap, pointed to the half- hour. Thirty short minutes and then—she shuddered at the prospect. Neil would be on his way home. Failing to meet her, he would naturally assume that something had detained her and would start for lunch. “ Save—Neil—save—Neil—save—Neil!”’ pounded the maddening refrain with re- newed energy. Then things began to turn black, to mix themselves up in whirling con- fusion. Over the edge of a frightful preci- pice, Amy felt herself slipping fast, faster, still faster. When she struck bottom, a vixenish-look- ing creature stood ready proffering her a very dirty, very cracked cup of water. Amy pushed it away in nauseated disgust. The sudden movement splashed the contents of the cup into the other woman's face. Amy could not keep back a little shriek of hys- terical laughter. ‘“*So!”? came to ‘her ears. “‘ This is how madame returns kindness. She is of a piece with that coquin of a husband of hers! Mon Dieu, but it is Paulette Chinaux that will learn my lady when she comes to Ca- muck Gulch not_to leave her fine manners on the high-road.”’ Amy, blinking back into consciousness, found the awakening process hastened by a vicious shake that sent her reeling to the floor. Her restoration was completed by a glance at the mantel timepiece. The minute-hand pointed to quarter of one. She had wasted fifteen precious minutes in a silly fainting fit! Only.fifteen more re- mained in which to work out Neil’s deliver- ance. ‘‘Save—Neil—save— Neil—save—Neil!” the thumping recommenced. Only this time the tripping machine seemed to voice blackest despair. Black Pete turned toward the door. With PARTNER. 67 a terse twist of his stubby thumb, he sum- moned the villainous quartet into line. Amy reached forward and made a des- perate clutch at his ragged coat-sleeve. The next moment she sprang to her feet with quick determination. | “Stay!” she commanded. ‘“ You shall not go! I have something to say to you and you are going to remain and hear it!” The ring of authority in the stirring words astounded nobody more than herself. A power, a something outside her personal- itv, whose puppet she was, seemed all at once to take complete command of her men- tal forces. Swiftly her eye swept_the shabby room. It lighted in turn on the tumble-down stools, tiny stove, tub of steaming clothes, lastly, on an object in the farther corner. And it was that object, Amy knew instinc- tively, which, in the coming battle of life and death, was to decide the issue. It was inconspicuous enough, nothing more or less than a slender stick of log- wood. There was no mistaking it—the darkish-brown hue and hacked surface from which the bark had been peeled. It was a remnant, probably, from Black Pete’s latest thieving raid. 3 That ruffianly gentleman now accosted Amy with disdainful impatience. “ Madame forgets,” he reminded her with a growl, “ that we have work on hand.”’ ‘“‘And I, too, have work on hand,” re- turned Amy, meeting his supercilious leer with unflinching steadiness. Then pointing to the corner: ‘“ Do you see that stick? Bring it to me!” Black Pete hesitated. His slow brain could not all at once take in the amazing change from the clinging, begging woman of the moment before to this new masterful creature who ordered him about without explanation or apology. ‘Do as I say! And be quick about it!” Moved more by curiosity than any other emotion, Black Pete slunk over to the cor- ner with doglike docility. Amy fairly snatched the logwood stick from his grasp. The rest of the group shuf- fled uneasily. On the face of each was a dull inquisitiveness not unmixed with fear. Paulette had dried her red hands on a scrap CONMUC DOOK