Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 3, 1924 — page 33: what you’re looking at

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

TOTEM begin over again. And I’ll have to. arrest her, of course, for an attempt to kill me.” A sudden movement near the window startled him. The girl was regarding him with utter relief. ‘“‘ Oh, you are conscious,” she cried. ‘TI thought you were muttering in delirium. Oh, Bob, I’m so glad! Why didn’t you tell me who you were? I wouldn’t have fired. I don’t want to kill any one.” “Little Edith grown up,” he replied. Perhaps the last of the cobwebs had not yet left his brain, for he added with blunt admiration: ‘“‘ Lord, what a girl you have grown to be from such a homely little dud.” ‘A butterfly comes from a worm,” she replied with spirit, and yet she flushed, for she knew his words came from the heart, and the surprised admiration was still on his face. Bob MacGregor had been a god in her early girlhood, but his greet- ings had been such as mature minds of twenty or thereabouts deign to bestow on little children of twelve. He changed the subject to the present. “Then you did not know you were shoot- ing at me, an officer of the law?” he queried. “No,” she answered, “I thought you were—somebody else.” ‘Somebody who needed shooting?” he demanded. . ‘“Somebody—oh, don’t ask me,” she pleaded, “‘ I am sorry and if it is necessary to arrest me I am ready.” ‘“ Thank God!” he exclaimed. ‘ That re- lieves me-of an unpleasant task. Tell me this so I can report it. You believed your life was in danger, mistook me for somebody else, and shot when I refused to obey your orders.” His words puzzled her, but she assented. “ That is what I thought, honestly.” “Vou see, I must make some explana- tion for my failure to arrest your father, and to account for my wound. You must have clipped me on the head as I went down. I tried to dive behind a fallen log. I wanted to reach the cabin before you could warn your father. Would you mind giving me a drink of water?” She opened a cupboard and found a glass. “ You don’t believe in totem signs, do you?” she inquired. SIGNS. “ Bunk!” he said shortly. “T am glad you don’t. I don’t either, but a death sign was left on the cabin door last night. The sign of an almost for- gotten Indian legend of love, revenge, death.” She emptied the bucket and the glass was half filled. “ Drink this and [ll run down to the creek and get some more water,” she said; ‘‘ we used most of it in washing the wound.” The cold water refreshed him greatly, but he felt as if he could drink gallons. “Then your father remained here after I was shot?” ‘“ He carried you in, then left!” ‘““T wish you would persuade him to give himself up. This warrant must be served, and he has made threats not to be taken alive.” “If you would only give me time,” she began, then stopped. She did not propose to tell him her father had promised her not to resist to the point of murder. “If you would just give me time I think I could induce him to wipe the slate clean.” ‘The commissioner suspended sentence last time,” he reminded her, ‘“ and—well, you know he has becn making moon since then.” “Tl be back in @ moment,” she said, avoiding a reply to his last statement. Then with a friendly little smile that stirred him deeply for no logical reason, she was gone. The few moments it would take her to reach the creek gave him chance for re- flection. He was glad that arresting the girl was unnecessary, even though she had upset his plans and slightly wounded him. The relief on her face when she saw him regain consciousness told plainer than words, the depth of her remorse. That was settled. Fleming’s arrest would be a difficult mat- ter, but he believed that he read between the lines of a promise not to resist by force. If it came to a showdown and they shot it out, the girl could not be considéred for a moment. Perhaps if he gave her time she might induce her father to surren- der himself. Still there was that warrant and his orders were to serve it. He* glanced at the alarm clock on the 823 shelf. She had been gone fifteen minutes. * comniiclooo! S (©