Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 5, 1921 — page 73: what you’re looking at

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

THE KNIGHT OF LONELY LAND. 359 against the storm and losing headway with every yard. He knew where he was when Widow Green, stumbling over uneven frozen sround, tald him by the tensing spring of her body that she was on familar footing. There was little plowed ground in that section, and all of it was under fence ex- cept the Weed Patch. As soon as this came to him he knew where he was. One winter long past, the nester. in- spired by a passing ambition, had con- tracted to feed a bunch of cows for an overstocked rancher. He had built a hol- low square of hay racks, and their rem- nants, which still contained some rotting straw, remained in the deserted pasture. It was the recollection of this that brought Billie’s courage back to him. ‘The bunch would be safe there until morning if he could find this refuge. With the familiar topography of the Desmond place fixed in his mind this was not difficult, and presently the dim, stark shape of the feed racks appeared through the chaos of whirling whiteness. With the cattle disposed of he had time to think of himself and his horse. He could have found his way home easily enough from this point, but he did not wish to leave the bunch in the open land with only the dismantled racks to hold them. He knew that the nester’s shack was ‘empty, but he thought of it with a curious distaste. So many times he had stopped there to find Little Britches waiting for him or riding out to meet him, with ‘her curious, ungirlish ways and her cold smile that belied the secret warmth of her eyes. To go there now and find it empty woke a strange, echoing call in his heart. But there was nothing else to do if he was to spend the night close to the bunch, and he turned Widow Green’s head in the direction so well known to her. The shack stood suddenly in his path. The wind had spared the main room, but the lean-to lay Hat upon the ground, and the stable showed only four uprights naked against the storm. Not much left for shelter, but such as it was he claim- ed it. : The door was ajar, and he entered lead- ing the horse. Widow Green was averse to houses on principle,. but her spirit had been subdued until she followed meekly enough. When Billie struck a light he found the interior of the place much as it had been. In their flitting the Desmonds had left their household goods, such as it was, and it was possible to pass the night with some degree of comfort. There was a rusty stove, and the coffee pot left where it had Jast been used, and there were some blan- kets on the bunk that had belonged to Desmond, and on a shelf some half-filled paper bags that might contain food. There was room in a corner for the horse and he secured her there with her head away from the fire and the light. In spite of its ramshackle appearance the place was tight and warm, and in a short time the coffee pot was beginning to smoke over the fire that roared in the little stove. But there was no feed for Widow Green, and Billie commiserated with her as he went about preparations for his own comfort. “Never you mind, ol’ lady, you wait till we get back to th’ ranch an’ you'll lay up against that alfalfa stack until your old hide busts. You sure got a day of rest an’ fillin’ up in front of you, I promise.” Whether she understood or not the gray mare seemed contented enough with her comer, and presently Billie forgot her. The fire was hot, and after Jong hours in the open the weariness induced by con- stant effort took possession of him. Out- side the storm lashed the shack and beat upon the tin roof. The sting of the frozen snow was like the clash of a thousand tiny castanets tuned to some fierce, fairy music, and it lulled him to the borderland of sleep. So that when the horse lifted her head and gave a sharp neigh he was brought rudely back to consciousness. In a second he was alert and on his feet. He had barred the door against the on- slaught of the wind, and as he took down the barrier a muffled rap came in contact with the frame. He expected to discover some lost, belated rider like himself, ask- ing for shelter, but whert)the deen sen res