Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 17, 1924 — page 50: what you’re looking at

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

200 rassed expostulations and assurance that the girl was only a child. ‘“A woman hain’t never a child, cully!” Hardwick tried another tack with the irate little man—irate because he saw so little of Hardwick except, as now, after sun- down when the girl had retired to the se- clusion of her house. “Don’t you see, Ginger, that we’re just good pals—that’s all?” ‘“Gor blimme, Yank, hif you hain’t tork- in’ just like all the hother fools oo’ get goin’ wiv a woman. Fallin’ hin love, they calls hit.” And he turned sulkily away and did not speak to Hardwick again until the follow- ing night when he said, whispering hoarsely out of the corner of his mouth: “Say, cully, Hi’ve got hit all fixed fer hus to get haway.” “What do you mean?” Hardwick asked absent-mindedly. Ginger Dick looked at him in disgust. “Man,” he said, “ ain’t you got ears? I got round one hof the niggers. He torks Henglish, ’e does, an’ ’e’s sick of bein’ told wot to do by a bloomin’ woman, ’e is, so ’e’s a goin’ ter show the way hout of this bleedin’ hole. To-night ’es comink wiv hour revolvers hand is goin’ ter put us hon the road to the dorp. “ An’ listen, cully! Wile you’ve been foolin’ abart the plice with the piece of fluff Hi did some prospecting, see? Hand look at wot Hi found.” He handed Hardwick two or three pieces of quartz. ‘Wot do yer fink hof that, eh?” “ It’s good stuff,” Hardwick said calmly, “very good. I suppose you have discov- ered the ledge just back of her house.” Ginger Dick’s face fell. hotly: ‘“So you strikes gold an’ don’t tell a pal! That’s a ’ell of a way to hact!” ‘“ Knowing it’s there doesn’t do us any good, Ginger. We can’t mine it. The land belongs to the girl.” ‘“Blimme, I never thought of that!” Then another thought struck him. “ Did yer tell ’er abart hit?” “No! Somehow, I thought she’d rather not have it discovered.”’ Then he said, ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “Then that’s one time that yer senti- ment ’as done hus some good. Us ’ll take hit away from ’er. You're ’er right ’and man. Hit ’ll be easy.” Hardwick shook his head. “No, we can’t do that, Ginger. It wouldn’t be playing the game. She’s made this place a little paradise; her people are happy and—well, you know what would happen if we brought men in here and start- ed to work the reef. They’d make it a hell on earth! No, I’m not going to leave here yet, and if you go—I shan’t try to stop you—you’ll give me your word of honor first that you'll forget all about that reef.” “Yer gettin’ bleedin’ sentimental again,” growled Ginger, seeing visions of great wealth fade away. ‘ No, yer ain’t, though. Yer just bein’ sly; yer wants to get hon the soft side of the girl so as yer can get hit all fer yourself with no risk. W’y! Yer as bad as Burke in a manner hof speakin’. Yer willin’ to stay ’ere an live hoff a girl. Wi’ you hand ’er—” But he got no further. Hardwick’s hands closed about his throat, choking off all sound. Ginger Dick clawed the air frantically, his face grew purple. Suddenly Hardwick, with a gesture of contempt, released his hold. “All right, Ginger,” he said tonelessly. “Tl go with you. But—we’ll never come back.” “Blimme!” Ginger Dick gulped. pain- fully. ‘ My bleedin’ tongue went hand got me hinto trouble again. Hi torks too much. Ferget it, cully, will yer?” “ That’s all right, Ginger. we start?” “ Hany time now. Hi’ll give the signal.”’ He put out the light and then both men sat down on their cots and waited. Presently they were conscious of another’s presence in the hut and, as they jumped to their feet, a voice said softly: “We go now, white men.”’ “Where are you?” Ginger Dick whis- pered hoarsely. ‘‘ Where are the guns?” “T am here by the door; I have the guns.”’ They got to the doorway and a moment How soon do COMMICLOooks (C@