Argosy, Vol. 112, No. 2 — page 69: what you’re looking at

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

PETE’S POLITE—PERHAPS. fists began to swing in a menacing move- ment. ‘What th’ hell do you mean by walkin’ out with my daughter?” Pete demanded. “Why, we were just enjoying the cool of the evening,”’ Royce said. ‘Leave her be from now on, or T’ll smash you,” Pete said. Vessgir: © More of that cussed politeness! died out of Pete’s face, and his fists un- clenched. How was a man going to thrust out against anything so soft, so utterly without resistance, as Royce was now? ‘Oh, cripes!”” and Pete walked away. As he went he was aware that he had failed. How could you trust a man that merely gave you a “ Yes, sir,” in answer to a threat? Pete had planned to cuff Royce if he had resisted and then to kick him along the road till Royce would have been glad to disappear from the camp. So Pete went to the flap of his daugh- ter’s tent. He called to her. “Come in,” she said in muffled tones. Pete entered. He stopped just inside and stared at his daughter in astonish- ment. She was sitting before a table and her head was buried in her thrust-out arms. Her shoulders were shaking. “Why, Ruth,” Pete whispered, ‘‘ what’s the matter?” . He knew that Ruth was crying, and he was terror-stricken. Something had _ hap- pened to her who was his first-born and his last. She was the only feminine thing in his life—all he had to relieve the rough- ness of his way. He thought his heart had died when her mother had passed on, and it had only come to life when the girl had slowly grown into a likeness of what the mother had been when he had married her. And now grief had come to her. ‘““What’s the matter, Ruth?” he asked again. The girl lifted her face. It was wet, but her eyes were not red. Indeed, they were softly shining. ‘T’ve lost all chance of happiness,” she said, with a doleful sigh. ‘“ It’s something about this here Royce?” Pete asked. The red 255 “Yes,” said Ruth. “ Sit down. as well tell you about it.” He sank down on a camp-stool. ‘“ Royce is only working on this paving job to get money to finish his education,” Ruth went on. “ He’s been working every summer since he started to college. The high wages here attracted him. He’s in a scientific school. He’s going to be an engi- neer. “The idea of getting an education has always been before him like a star.”’ ‘He said that?” Pete interpolated. ‘““He said that,” Ruth assented. ‘ He has slaved to get to be somebody—to rise in the world. He was a poor boy of poor parents. He’s going to be a big man in the engineering world. “He is a gentleman. I love him. He loves me. It was sudden with us, dad. It happened right over there on the road when I gave him a lift in the car. I knew he was different from other men. I want to marry him.” Pete stood up. A gentleman, huh? A soft-handed son of a gun that thought he was better ’n other folks? Where did he get that stuff? “ T’ve gave you everything in reason that you ever asked for, Ruth,” he said sternly. ‘“But I ain’t going to give you this man. You're not going to marry him. I won’t give my consent. I don’t like him, and when I don’t like a man I hate him. There ain’t no happy meejum for me.”’ “ That’s what I told Mr. Royce,” Ruth said. “I know you pretty well. But it makes no difference. There’s another rea- son—a bigger reason—why I couldn’t have him. He wouldn’t have me.” “What?” Pete cracked out the word, staring at his daughter. ‘That whippersnapper wouldn’t have you—he wouldn’t marry a daughter of old Pete Blandin? Why, damn him, I’ll—” Prospective’ enjoyment cooled Pete’s wrath. Presently he was going to wring Royce’s neck, just as he would have wrung a chicken’s. It ’d be fun. Meantime, he’d have an explanation. ‘Just why won’t he marry you?” he asked. I may Gomichbooks (e(@)