Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 17, 1924 — page 51: what you’re looking at

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

THE SENTIMENTAL BLOKE. later were buckling on their revolvers which the native put into their hands. “The cartridges, except the ones already in the guns, I could not get,” the native said. “ Lumme!” Ginger Dick exclaimed in dis- may. “Then I hain’t a goin’.” “Oh, yes, you are,” Hardwick replied, and caught hold of Ginger by his shirt collar. “ Quiet!” warned the native. “ They will hear us. Follow close.” He moved off noiselessly, his big black bulk barely discernible, though, by stretch- ing out his hand, Ginger Dick could have touched him. On they went, starting nervously as a dog yelped somewhere in the kraal, until, judging that they had left kraal and the house of Katje far behind, Ginger Dick said mournfully: “TLumme! Can’t we tork now?” “No talk—too many ears,” whispered the native. “If they find us now, the vul- tures will pick your bones to-morrow.” “ Blimme! I’m deaf and dumb.” They went on in silence. The stars seemed to have increased a thousandfold since the men had left the hut and the whole sky shimmered phos- phorescently. But the light was deceptive; it made the judging of distances difficult, the shadows distorted everything so that the white men walked cautiously, fearing a sudden drop where the ground was level, or fell several times at places where they had supposed it to be even. “Why don’t we get on the road by which the wagon brought us to this place?” Hard- wick asked suspiciously when, after an hour or so of clambering up and down kopjes, they rested for a little while. “Men guard the road,” their guide an- swered tersely. “Men with spears. Now let us go on. Near by is a large kraal and we have stayed here too long.” As he spoke some dogs having caught their scent, noisily gave tongue. “ Halright, let’s go,” said Ginger Dick. “Tm thinkin’ them dogs is ’ungry.” And on they went until the gray of break- ing day found them, footsore and weary, on a small plateau, halfway between a kraal 201 and a long, rambling house built of red veldt stone! Standing at the open door of the house was Katje. She laughed merrily at their look of discomfiture. | = Hardwick laughed, too, whole-heartedly. But Ginger Dick, almost crying with baffled rage, so tired and frightened that he was not altogether responsible for his action, pulled his revolver and aimed at the girl. The trigger clicked harmlessly just as Hardwick threw himself at Ginger, col- laring him about the knees, bringing him to the ground with a thud. “It’s all right, Big Jim,” the girl called. “ He has only dummy cartridges. Let him go. Yours are dummy ones, too. So now come in and have skoff, it is all prepared for you. You come, too, Ginger, unless,” she added meaningly, ‘‘ you would rather eat with my warriors.” Rising, both men turned and saw that some fifty or sixty armed men had quietly surrounded them. “Let’s heat,” grumbled Ginger Dick. “1’m bloomin’ ’ungry!” Katje led the way into a small room at the back of the house and, a moment later, they were eating a hearty meal with an ap- petite spiced by their wanderings of the night. Only once did the girl refer to their at- tempted escape and then, as she passed Gin- ger Dick his fifty cup of coffee, she said reproachfully : ‘You shouldn’t have tried to bribe my people, Ginger Dick. That was very wrong. And of course I heard all about it. At first I was angry and wondered whether I should let you live. I’m angry still—but you’ve been punished enough, no? I arranged it all very well, didn’t I?” Ginger Dick hurriedly gulped down his coffee. “ Yus,” he said. “ Hand I’ma fool! Hif you'll hexcuse me, miss, Til go now. I’m bloomin’ tired.” As the little man left the room, his head hanging dejectedly, the girl turned to Hard- wick. “ Can you keep awake a little longer, Bi Jim?” she asked softly. “Yes; I’m not tired, Katje. Why?” CoOmicloool< (C@