Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 5, 1921 — page 142: what you’re looking at

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

428 six-shooter without taking the trouble to replace the exploded cartridge. Miss Rowland’s heart skipped a beat. The trees about her reeled and swung and tossed their branches. The ground rocked. The ugly, laughing face of the man in front of her dominated everything. She saw him now for what he was—a man after the fashion of him who had bent her back across the table in the Two Bar ranch- house. But despite herself she would not believe it. The fates could not be so un- kind as to raise her up simply to dash her down. It was unthinkable. It was—the squint-eyed man was spesking. “Yo’re a comin’ along with me for now,” he said. ‘ That’s enough for you to know now.” Holding her bridle in his left band, he turned out the pockets oi the dead man with the other. Of their contents he took what pleased him, left the remainder scat- tered abroad, and straightened his tough body. | ‘Tl ride his horse,” said he, with a hate- ful grin. ‘“‘ The money’s safe in the can- tinas. I made shore o’ that while he was down there on the road a waitin’ for you.” The allusion to the money she did not understand. The explanation was to come later. He mounted and, leading her horse, trotted to where he had left his own mour®. And all the time she alternately pleaded and threatened in her striving to be al- lowed to go. To all of which he paid small attention. He loosed his tied horse with- out dismounting, added its reins to those already in his left hand, and rode on. One may not describe the thoughts of Miss Rowland. Mercifully after a time her brain became numb. In this it was fol- lowing the example of her wrists and ankles. They had lost all: feeling within an hour. The man, riding a neck ahead, kept his eyes before him. Miss Rowland, her mouth dry, her tongue cottony, stared dumbly down at the saddle-horn. There was a brass screw set in the middle of that horn. But the driving slot lay neither square all nor fore and aft. It slanted to the right, and the slant annoyed her. ‘The ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. 4 fact kept impinging upon her dulled cos sciousness with the irritating activity of @ buzzing and persistent fly. 4 It had been not later than nine o’cloda when she left the Two Bar ranch-housgj Noon was past, and the afternoon dragged on and still the squint-eyed man maintainag the pace—a steady fox trot. It is an eam gait to one riding free in the saddle. Bg Miss Rowland was bound. Restrictéd ¢ culation will in time cduse other effeg than mere numbness. But the shadow were long before black spots danced amg rocketed in her tortured vision. She fe€ herself going—she must have gasped, fort the squint-eyed man turned, reined back,: and caught her as she started to pitch for- ward.. . + She did not quite lose consciousness, but she was perilously close to fainting before he had cut her lashings, swurtg her from the saddle and laid her on the ground. She lay there in a gray mental fog while the blood ran back into her wrists and ankles with a sharp tingling—a tingling that grew ever sharper till it dispelled completely the gray fog and she caught her under-lip between her teeth to keep from screaming. The pain wore away at last, and she sat up. The squint-eyed man had unsaddled the horses, hobbled them, built a fire and was frizzling bacon on 2 stick and boiling cof- fee in a pail. ‘“Come to, huh?” was his harsh ac- knowledgment of her reviving. ‘“ After to- night you'll do this,” he added, waggling a thumb at the fire and the bacon. ‘“ Don’t understand, huh? You will. You’ll under- stand a heap o’ things before I’m through with yuh.” Involuntarily she shuddered. He saw and laughed his hateful laugh and turned the bacon slowly. When the bacon was cooked to his liking, and the. coffee prop- erly boiled, he ate the one and drank the other. He offered her none of either. The sketchy meal disposed of, he sat down cross-legged, facing her, and constructed and lit a cigarette. ‘Tm shore in luck to-day,” said he. ‘Shore am. Here’s you an’ here’s me. What more could a feller want? An’ they’s ten thousand dollars inthe captings.on.. inn