Argosy All-Story Weekly, January 13, 1923 — page 47: what you’re looking at

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

WHEN A MAN’S BROKE. 509 he must have been aware of the shock his words had given the Frazers; for his face was red and moist as he went on to say that it was a poor time in the mining world; no capital was to be had; no development was being done. ‘Within a year,” Frazer answered point- ediy, “this country has invested twenty- five millions in platinum mines in Colom- bia.” “Yes, in placer mines—river sands— easy pickings,” said Lutwell. ‘“ But look what you’ve got here. Ore that will have to be freighted to Boulton, thirty miles, up over a nine-thousand-foot plateau and down again, for smelting. And when you get the stuff there at last over this awful road of yours, who in creation knows how to smelt it?” Frazer’s eyes flashed. “I have planned a process, as you know very well—”’ Then he subsided. The manly fire faded out of his eyes, and a vacant, troubled, hopeless look took its place. The syndi- cate men saw him as the town of Boulton had seen him for ten years. “No, my friend,” Lutwell continued, red to the roots of his hair; “ there’s only one’ way to make money out of a prospect like yours in times like these. I don’t go in for such games myself, but if you like I can steer you to people who do.”’ He shot a scowl at Steve Brown. “ Must we have an audience?” he hinted. Steve went away. boiling. The fair dream his friends had entertained so hope- fully had gone to smash. Their lode was worth no more to them, here in their iso- lated canon, than a chest of doubloons to a castaway on a desert island. What a world it was! And how at the mercy of those who had were those who had not! For a time he heard the murmur of voices on the porch; then he saw Daniel Frazer stalking away under the spruces, looking straight ahead, and Nell running after him and taking his arm to lead him back to the house. In the other direction went the syndicate pair, too intent in an argument to note that they passed close to Steve. ‘““Don’t- be soft,” Laird was saying. “ Where’s your nerve?” Hotly Lutwell answered: “ Soft, perdi- tion! Look at the harm we’ve done!”’ ‘“ Queer talk from that pair of buzzards,” thought Steve as he made for the house. Janet’s golden head was buried in her arms on the table. Nell entered with her father, guided him to his easy chair among his bookshelves, and pleaded with him as a mother to a child. ‘Don’t feel angry, dear. It isn’t really an insult. It’s only the way of their world.”’ “But, Nellie, for them not to know the kind of man I am!” She stroked his gray head. He pushed away her gentle hands. “Don’t,” he said. ‘“ Don’t, please. I mustn’t be soothed. I should be a man. I should order them off the place.” At the door Lutwell appeared. Some- thing very like remorse was written on his brow. Before he could speak Laird came from behind and drew him away. Frazer, having risen to confront the man at the door, looked around in a dazed man- ner at Nell, vigilant beside him, at Janet, gazing up-tearfully from the table, and at Steve Brown, standing by to help and not knowing how to begin. ; ‘“TI—I must lie down,” said Daniel Frazer. They helped him across the room to the couch. He slept even before they had placed a pillow under his head. Nell cov- ered him with a blanket and said, as they looked down at him: ‘‘ He has never been like this before. Can it be a stroke?” “Doc Hamilton says sleep is the best medicine there is,” Steve told her, finding no better comfort to offer. A quiet voice spoke behind them. Arthur Laird, subdued and grave, had come in. “It may be a good thing for him, this upset,” he said. “I knew of a case—” ‘Your sympathy comes late,” Nell broke in. His glance wandered uneasily from her burning face to the form on the couch, then he turned on his heel and went out of the room. : “* Steve!” Her young man had followed Laird EORMIGLOOO KS we the “abe ay = re. . we 4 = 3 - aa