Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 5, 1921 — page 59: what you’re looking at

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

ty, Evelyn Campbell Aather ef “Spark of the Flame,” etc. CHAPTER XIV. “ THE WICKED FLEE.” N the way back to Three Nines () Billie made a detour that took him past the Weed Patch. The sheriff returned directly to Cat Fork dis- gusted at the apparent failure of his mis- sion, for Billie had not shared with him the discovery of the roan horse among the Camberwell string. His heart misgave him .for his silence on what might be a vital point in the evidence they were trving to piece together, but it was still his heart that rebelled at throwing suspicion on the gir! who had been his friend. He had more than one score to settle with her; there were points to be cleared up before they could resume their old care- less, gay relations, but paramount was the necessity for knowing just how far she was implicated with Camberwell’s outfit. He felt that he. must be the one to hear this first: afterwiird if Cooper should know he would be the ‘one to tell him. It was late® ‘afternoon and smoke was coming from th crazy pipe that pence- trated. the roof ofthe lean-to of the Des- mond shack. The place was as dreary. and unkempt as usual and in the little corral behind it a lean’ pony snooped about in search of a stray tuft of hay. But the presence of this sorry animal proved noth- ing. It belonged to Desmond himself: the girl would have scorned to ride it. Desmond came to ‘the door in answer to Billie’s shout.-. He was smoking his short pipe and returned his visitor’s greeting with a sullen grunt. He was the same lazy, dirty, nondescript known to every- body in the valley, but at sight of him Billie was conscious of a warm feeling of relief. He did not attempt to analyze the reason for this; he had never known joy at seeing the old scoundrel before, but there was something in ‘the sight of him that was reassuring. {f anvthing was wrong there must have heen some sign about the girl’s father to prove it so. Then his heart, which had moved with relief, fell to zero again. From the kitchen came the strong odor of coffee and cooking food, but there was no sign of Little Britches anywhere. Desmond invited Billie to have supper by jerking his thumb toward the crazy stove where the food simmered, but his in- vitation was rejected. ‘““l got to he gettin’ home. I reckon Jack’! be raisin’ Cain all over th’ place, me bein’ gone all day. He keeps harpin’ on a change comin’ right soon. What do. vou make out?” Old Desmond sent a shrewd eye toward the calm sky. Like most of his race he was accounted a weather prophet and was seldom wrong in his predictions. Now he shook his head ominously. ‘““Shouldn’t be surprised if Jack was right. There’s a haze over there to th’ This story began in the Argosy-Allstory Weekly for January 15. 345 cCoMmicbooks.€@