Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 23, 1924 — page 71: what you’re looking at

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

2 MYSTERY LAND. of your black tempers again! If you don’t smile this minute I’ll shake you!” Channing smiled. “That’s better!”’ she declared. I forbid you to think such thoughts again. There isn’t a thing in the world for any one to brood about. People who brood are selfish. Do you want to be thought selfish?”’ “Not by you, Eve.” She looked at him and he saw a shade of derisive thought cross her eyes. Then she laughed aloud. “Larry,” she- said, poetry!” “He,” Channing knew, meant Bassett. Eve never referred to Bassett in any other way. Channing had observed that peculiar- ity in Eve’s manner toward her stepfather— that she never accorded him the dignity of his new position. “ He,’ spoken with a sort of awed constraint, had in the early days been the manner in which she distinguished Bassett from other men. Of late the awe had been absent, to be substituted by a trace of derision, as in the present in- stance. “ Poetry,” repeated Channing. He gave the girl a glance which she understood. ‘““ So he’s taken another turn, has he? What sort of poetry has he taken up?” ‘Byron. Larry, it’s too amusing. Byron is among the books you gave me. Two or three weeks ago he overheard me read- ing to mother. He asked me to read the poem again. Since then he has asked me to read it to‘ him nearly every evening. While I read he sits there with the oddest expression in his eyes. He gives me the shivers. Ugh!” “What’s the poem?” * “ Mazeppa.” ‘That wild horse thing, eh? I read it when I was a kid. H-m! Well, I reckon Bassett would like that sort of thing.” But Eve’s thoughts were wandering. She did not even hear Channing’s final words. Her thoughts were of a new resident who had settled upon some land, southward. The new resident was a young man, and _ Eve was a-throb with curiosity. “Channing,” she said quietly, “I have heard that we have a new neighbor. Have we called upon him?” . “he’s taken up 229 “ T’ve been over there,” announced Chan- ning. “ Officially?” asked Eve. : “Well, I reckon not. I was passin’ his shack, an’ stopped to talk to him.” ‘““Who is he, Channing?” “Calls himself Wayne Warren. He’s from the East. He’s let it be known that he’s travelin’ through the West, roughin’ it, he says. He spoke some of his ‘ peregrina- tions.’ I’ve looked that word up; it means senseless wanderin’s. He’s in that old shack that used to belong to Ben Mellert—t reckon you don’t remember it. It’s over on Two Forks, about ten miles south. He’s’ got a woman with him.” “Oh,” said Eve. ‘“An old woman,” amended Channing, his lips twitching oddly. “She’s Irish. Mrs. Bailey. He brought her from Red Mesa to cook for him. I reckon if she wasn’t there he’d starve to death.” Eve turned her head a little, so that Channing could not see the curiosity in her eyes. And when she spoke it was with a softness that did not mislead Channing. ‘““ Channing,” she said, “ I think we ought to visit Mr. Warren formally. He has been here a long time, hasn’t he?” “ Just about long enough to get his bear- in’s. About two months,” ‘“Two months! He has been here that -long, and not one of us has been over! Why, he will think we are unneighborly! Channing, please rope my horse. I am go- ing right over. And you are going with me!” Channing moved to the corral gate. He roped two horses, saddled and bridled them; helped Eve up on one by holding the ani- mal, mounted the other and rode south- ward, Eve at his side. Later they were rid- ing in the knee high sage of a flat in the great rolling country that stretched from the Circle B ranch house. Somehow, Channing had no great liking for this trip. There was a repressed eager- ness in Eve’s manner that bothered him. She was too curious about Wayne Warren. It was as if she expected to be pleased when she saw him. Channing did not want her to be pleased. But he was afraid she would -be pleased. (E00) .OO AMUCE cS (E)