Argosy, Vol. 117, No. 2 — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

CROSSROADS. She had been a creature of action, of masculine and terrible action, and as such accepted by the men and t= women among whom she moved. Now she became, in an instant, femininely appealing, beautiful. A new and mighty strength filled her. With all her heart she hated the bearded man who tapped Dix Van Dyck on his shoulder in the middle of the dance. They had paused at the edge of the dance-floor and the man said: “Stranger, be on your way. You've started your own little hell by dancing with Jack, but some one else is liable to put on the finishing touch. There was a greaser in here a minute ago—a bad one by the look—asking after a man like you. The deputy marshal-—Glasgow—was with him. I sent ’em down the street, but they’ll be back. Take my advice, and don’t wait.”’ With that, he turned on his heel and Dix Van Dyck, a towering figure in the crowd, stiffened and stared after him. Truly the arm of Sheriff Onate was long. “The bad luck,” he nodded, and stared down in the face of the girl. “ The bad luck,” she agreed. “ It didn’t wait.” She said it half ruefully—half carelessly; like one familiar with danger. “Take the back door,” she advised, “Tt’s the easiest way out.” “The easiest way,” said the big man calmly, “is to get back to our table and wait for what comes. This ain’t the finish; it’s only the beginning of a long trail.” She followed him back to the table. It was only because she wanted a chance to argue the point. “But you see,” she explained, as they slipped again into their chairs, Van Dyck facing the door, “ that everything is against you. The deputy marshal can call on every one in the house, if he wants ’em. Besides, do you know the country in case you make a getaway?” “Not a mile of it. South.” ‘“'What’ve you done that started the law after you?” ‘* Greasers.”’ “Nothing but them?”’ “Nothing. §We’ve got a greaser for I come from the sheriff down in Chaparna County. He’s after my scalp.” ‘“And you're going to sit here and see this through?” 3 ‘Sure. What would you do?” She avoided the question. “It’s a crazy idea. Take my word: the best thing it to cut and run. It’s bad to have a sheriff after you. It’s a lot worse to have a marshal, and Glasgow sticks to a trail like glue to a dog’s tail.” Apparently he barely heard her words, but sat stiff and straight in his chair, his keen eyes plunging into the future. By deep and sympathetic intuition she knew all that was passing in his mind. His reason told him in no uncertain terms to take the advice of the girl and leave the saloon. But the same perverse instinct which had first made the man hunt her out now held him in his chair waiting for the surely approaching danger. She knew at once that it was useless to argue longer with him. But the suspense began to make her uncomfortable and sick inside—the qualm which comes to the soldier before the battle. What made it doubly deadly was the noise which continued unabated throughout the rest of the great room. From the gam- ing tables, from the bar, from the orchestra, from the dance floor and the tables around it, the same unbroken stream of chatter, cries, curses, laughter poured out at them. It was like a grim parody of the whole of life. Into this gay throng death was about to come with silent steps, stretch out his arm, and beckon his victim. Then would fall an instant of silence, a few cries of horror, but almost at once the noise would be recommenced. Conscience would be drowned in the clamor of self- conscious gaiety. “There’s going to be a gun-play,” said Dix Van Dyck, ‘ and I don’t want you in the danger zone. Go to another table.” She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. He got the impression, somehow, that she valued her life less than anything in the world. He knew, in fact, that when a wo- man turns daredevil she passes beyond the limit of any man, but he was unprepared for this contemptuous indifference. COMMICLOOOKS 171 . (C@)