Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 5, 1921 — page 61: what you’re looking at

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

THE KNIGHT OF LONELY LAND. a bad reputation among other men. The sullenness of his riders, the atmosphere of secrecy that pervaded the house and its in- mates; the brandless stock and that which had been branded far too often, all left a bad impression upon the public mind. No one openly accused Camberwell of evil do- ing, but the thought was uppermost In so many minds that it needed but a touch of fire to send it to a blinding flame. Now it was in Billie’s power to supply this tinder, but he could not bring his will to the act. Little Britches with her big black eyes, her curls, her brave, boyish manner! He could not hand her over to inquiry that would be merciless. If she was at Camberwell’s there was 4 reason. Had she shown herself when he was at the ranch she might have made a dvzen ex- cuses, and he would have credited any of them in preference to what he now believed against his will, He could not doubt that she knew of his visit; had perhaps watched him come and go from one of those high, secret win- dows that told nothing. He wanted to go back and choke the truth out of her father, but commonsense warned him of the fool- ishness of this course. Desmond might know of his daughter’s actions, but he had never forced this course upon her. Billie knew too well the contempt the girl had for her parent, and how little his will pre- vailed with her. He rode slowly on to the Three Nines turning these thoughts and conjectures over and over in his mind; wondering what was the best thing to do. Desmond, whether he had a knowledge of the rustlers of not plainly meant to leave the coun- try; possibly taking his daughter with him, but his: apprehension meant discovery for Little Britches’ part in the systematic thievery and this sealed Billie’s lips. There was no way to avoid bringing her into the disclosure, and he knew wel! that in the unwritten laws of the land the fact that she was a girl would carry small weight. Her treachery, if treachery it was, made her crime a darker one because she had been trusted and treated with kindness everywhere. _ There was another phase to the drama—- 347 for Billie the most important phase of all, but it was a private matter and something the girl would never be called upon to an- swer for except before the tribunal of her own conscience and before himself. This was the matter of persuading Geraldine Hoyt to ride the outlaw horse. To do this thing she must have been in a desperate mood, ready to sacrifice her standing, even her safety, to gratify a fancied revenge. He had no doubt after seeing her horse at Camberwell’s, that it was Little Britches herself who told of Geraldine’s ride. It would be like her to boast of an act that might have made her a moral murderer, Billie was puzzled by- his own feeling toward her; by right he should have been angry, he should have loathed the girl who could be such a traitor and he was aston- ished to find this thoughts gentler, kinder to her than they had ever been. Hereto- fore he had scarcely thought of her at all, except as the boy she sometimes seemed to be, or as a child who had never grown up. But now his pity for the lonely, passion- ate little pagan was too great for blame to become a part of it. He wanted to save Little Britches, to shelter her and start her feet on the way to better things. Billie knew nothing about Sir Launcelot or other gentle knights; he would shave blushed to the ears had such qualities been attributed to him. His code of right and wrong was as stern as the granite hills he faced, but nowhere in the rulings of his honor could he find a place for Little Britches and her sins. He had for the time forgotten Geraldine Hoyt, though until now she had occupied most of his thoughts, and when a little later they met at a turn in the trail, he was so plainly startled and brought back from some clistant place that the English girl was unreasonably annoyed. She was riding the new horse, and when she took in Billie's blank expression she would have passed on without a greeting, but ‘his horse, wheeling, blocked the way. It was nearly mght and the road he had come was lonely and deserted. “It's pretty late, Miss Hoyt,” the said. “I don’t think you’d better ride this way except in daytime.” aarnichhoalcs CO