Argosy, Vol. 112, No. 2 — page 110: what you’re looking at

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

ttn elas aku) | st ( i ; 276 As he yanked up his coat-collar and jerked down the brim of the rubber hat it seemed to Jane’s horror that the silent laughter which shook him must be echoing through the store. He turned without an- other word and slouched out of the door, almost colliding with the bandaged arm of a tall, lanky individual who edged in with unaccustomed shyness, his leathery face dyed a rich mahogany. He glanced ab- sently after the man who had just left, and then his eyes returned to the girl as if fasci- nated. Jane was still flushed with ire at the late encounter, but at sight of the newcomer’s obvious embarrassment she managed an encouraging smile. “Good morning,” she said. ‘ D-did you want to buy something? I’m the new assistant storekeeper.’’ The new arrival gulped. ‘““ No’m—yes’m.”” He corrected himself and swore softly beneath his breath. That smile had been his undoing. “ Pretty day, ain’t it?” ‘“ Pretty wet one!” Jane laughed. ‘“ What do you call bad weather up here in Kata- lak?”’ “ October till April.” Harve found his voice with the familiar topic. ‘‘ Nothin’ but snow and da-dampness, all the time. You'll see some sunshine if you stay long enough, ma’am.” He had pulled off his hat and stood turn- ing it while the rain dripped from it be- tween his fingers and the conversation lagged. ‘‘T—I expect to stay until the road goes through,” Jane observed at last. “ Are you one of the—”’ She paused, and her prospective cus- tomer announced hastily: “Tm Harve Dugdale, superintendent of dock construction, ma’am.” Then his eyes lighted upon the opened box of cigars and slowly bulged. Jane’s glance followed his. “ This is some of the new stock Mr. Pit- tinger just got in; it came on the same steamer with my father and me.” She pushed the box toward him. “Try one, Mr. Dugdale—five cents.”’ Being wholly unable to express his THE ARGOSY. amazement in language fit for this new storekeeper’s ears, Harve mutely took one of the cigars, smelled it half incredulously, then shaking his head, replaced it. ‘“ No, ma’am. I—I don’t like to conter- dic: a lady, but I’d be cheatin’ you.” “Oh, I know that’s a little below what they sell for at home, but I’m sure of my orders.” Jane dimpled. ‘‘ Maybe the Northern Star people want to—to take off some of the price for fhe men who are put- ting through the road for them.” Harve stared. “T reckon you don’t know much about mining companies, ma’am,” he remarked. ‘“Has Jud got any more new stock in?” Not untruthfully had Persis Cheever said, on that day which seemed a thousand years ago, that Janey could sell anything to anybody. When Harve Dugdale turned at last reluctantly to the door his pockets were emptied of everything save his pen- knife, his gat, and a lonely fragment of plug, but his arms were piled high with strange and gaudy garments, boxes of candy, and dried fruit, highly scented soap, and an astonishing new razor in a leather case. One resolve had emerged from the chaos of his mind: if Jud had slyly laid in all this regalia in anticipation of the lady’s appearance on the scene, then he, Harve, meant to be the first and _ best- dressed man in Katalak. At the door, while he was struggling to replace his hat with his lame arm, Jane overtook him and momentarily relieved him of his burdens. “How did you get hurt?” she asked shyly. “ Just a little accident, ma’am.’ reddened. “One of the kind I’ve been hearing about—on the steamer coming up here, I mean?” Jane added hurriedly. ‘‘ People were talking about some funny accidents that have been happening ever since the road was started.” : “Yes’m.” Harve paused, and then said with a touch of sudden roughness in his tone: ‘‘ Excuse me, but there ain’t any- b Harve body up here like you, and your father is kind of an old man. If—if anybody says (C@) (E) ‘AL Mmigbooks