Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 3, 1924 — page 32: what you’re looking at

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

822 ran toward the spot and yet she did not throw caution to the winds despite her mental distress. The man might be sham- ming. With wide eyes she looked down upon him, half afraid. She turned deathly white at sight of his bloodstained face, then fled the spot. : Five minutes later she burst into a newly constructed cabin, well hidden from even one seeking its location. ‘‘ Oh, dad!” she sobbed. ‘‘ Oh, dad!” ‘There, there!’’ he said sympathetically. T felt kinda queer myself when I killed my first deer. That’s why I didn’t want you to go out. I knew you'd bring it down— why, what’s the matter Edith?” “ T’ve killed Bob MacGregor!” “ You—what!” Fleming’s hands dropped on his daughter’s shoulders. “ You— what!” ‘* He—he—limped, and I thought it was Limpy Ford coming to get you,” she cried. “Oh, what ’ll we do?” “It was Bob MacGregor, eh? Well, he was coming for me. Somebody tipped him off. H-m! Stay here, Edith; I'll be back in a minute! Pack your things; we’ll have to clear out of here—to-day!”’ Fleming recalled the time Bob lost his leg. It was a bit of gameness that was typical of Bob, a determination not to die that was a classic when old-timers gathered and said: “I remember when—”’ Nor had the artificial portion of his leg prevented his getting into the big scrap. He got by some way, because he was that sort. Just how did not matter. Evildoers rather hoped it would put an end to his man hunting days, but it hadn’t. They were learning this to their sorrow. But Fleming could not understand the limp un- less it came from getting through the rough ground and brush. Certainly when he walked about the street or in a building a limp was not noticeable. The girl’s mad flight through the wet brush left a plain trail to the spot. Fleming picked up the marshal’s automatic pistol and thrust it into his pocket, then he gath- ered up the silent figure and carried it to the cabin. Strong man that he was, Flem- ing was panting from his efforts. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. The girl held the cabin door open with one hand, while with the other she pressed her mouth with a handkerchief. She tried to look into MacGregor’s face, but even her strong will faltered. Then she filled a pan with water and forced herself to the task of rendering first aid. Fleming helped her to some extent, but for the most part he rushed about the cabin, gathering equip- ment, which he placed in a large pile in the center of the floor. At length he stopped. “We must go now, Edith; are you ready?” “But we can’t leave him!” she cried. *There’s a spark of life, and I am sure I can bring it back. Oh, dad, won’t you let me?” ‘““ Well—yes, but I must go! where, little girl!” She nodded. ‘ Hurry, and I'll join you —soon. And watch out for Ford.” ‘Tl watch out for him,” he replied, ‘“‘and God give me sight to see him first. I’m going to kill him and have done with it,” ‘“ No, you mustn’t, even though he de- serves it!” ‘* Not even in self-defense?” he demanded sharply. “In self-defense, yes; but let’s hope it will not come to that!” she replied. Fleming walked slowly away unconscious apparently of the heavy pack he was carry- ing. He could not figure it out. She fought continually against his getting into trouble and yet in the test she had been ready to kill for his sake. Or was it her own? The father wondered, and unconsciously his hand clenched. Once he looked back at the cabin, then he plunged into the woods. You know Bob MacGregor’s eyes opened with a jerk. One moment he seemed dead, and the next completely conscious and in full. pos- session of his keen wits. Instinctively he reached for his gun, then realizing he was lying on a bunk, the rest came to him. ‘‘ Ah, yes, the gun girl,” he muttered, “the little devil had the courage to fire!”’ His tone was filled with frank admiration. for he hated weakness in any form. ‘ And I thought women—all women—were weak. Well. Fleming got away and I’ll have to COMIC Ooo! ©