Argosy, Vol. 112, No. 2 — page 71: what you’re looking at

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

PETE’S POLITE—PERHAPS. In the center of this clearing stood Royce and Pete, confronting each other. There was intense silence in the woods. Pete’s first words came clearly to Ruth’s ears: “ T’m goin’ to lick you good.” “Perhaps,” said Royce. “ You said I was a rough-neck.” “ Aren’t you?” “You think my daughter isn’t good enough for you.” “Is she?” “You’re goin’ to be a gentleman and marry a lady, are you?” ‘“’m going to marry a lady, the finest in the world.” “You told my daughter you loved her.” ce Yes.” ‘““You bone!” With the last words just out of his mouth, Pete leaped. His right fist described an arc. At the end of the arc the fist was supposed to connect with Royce’s jaw. It didn’t. The jaw wasn’t there. Then Royce’s own fist was stabbed into Pete’s solar plexus. Pete uttered a grunt in which pain and surprise were intermin- gled. It was a very brief grunt, for immediate- ly Royce’s left fist and then his right found Pete’s jaw. Pete was filled with stark amazement that a man of Royce’s build could deliver blows so mighty, and while he dully wondered about that, Royce struck him twice again, once on the solar plexus and once on the side of the jaw. The latter blow rocked Pete’s head and filled him with wild rage. The rage killed all caution, and Pete tried to throw himself on his antagonist. He awoke to find the gang circled about him, and his daughter bending over him solicitously. Royce was not in sight. Pete got un- steadily to his feet, shaking off the hands outstretched to assist him. He looked about for Royce. That eminent pugilist was sitting with his back to a big tree, calmly smoking a cigarette. ‘An’ not a mark on him,” quoth Pete. ‘““Nary mark,” said O’Leary, with a grin. 237 Royce rose and walked over to Pete, edg- ing his way among the men. When: he stopped he was at Ruth’s side. ‘I said I was.going to marry a lady, the finest in the world,” he said. ‘ This is the lady. Am I going to marry her?” : His jaw was sore. Pete’s head ached. The nerves in his solar plexus were twitch- ing. He had whipped many men in his time. This was the first time he had been thoroughly whipped himself. .It- makes a difference with a man like Pete. Pete felt queerly humble and _ small, though he didn’t want to feelso. He hada notion he ought to go on with the scrap. He had always said to himself that he would fight till he died if he ever met a better man than himself. But he didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to fight any more. He had had enough.. He just wanted to sit down under a tree and rest. He sat down. He looked at his comely daughter. He didn’t understand the ex- pression on Ruth’s face. There was pride there and admiration for Royce, and con- cern for her bruised father; but Pete would be danged if he could see any regret there. He had taken a beating from a whipper- snapper, and Ruth wasn’t sorry. Pete looked at Royce. Well, now, was Royce a whippersnapper? He had handled himself like he was a real man. Pete could be just—always tried to be so—but it was” tarnation hard to be just in circumstances like these. He cast about for reasons and explana- tions. nation. : ‘“ Have I been framed?” he asked. “Tl tell you,” said Royce. “I knew you wouldn’t want your daughter to marry a man unless he ate with his knife and never said ‘ Please’ or ‘ Thank you.’ You didn’t think manners sat well on aman. So I just made up my mind to teach you a lesson. I knew if I sent a message to you by Ruth that I thought myself too good to marry her, you’d want me to do it. You're a bundle of contrariness, old Pete. You want to be stirring up trouble all the.time. Well ”’—Royce sighed gently—‘I don’t know that I’ve ever run away from trouble, Then he seemed to get one expla- GEomichboo (S SS) SO