Argosy All-Story Weekly, June 13, 1925 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

496 -——she did not know or inquire which—she saw a small spot of light that appeared to come slowly closer, as tediously as a glow- worm. She felt the need of rising and crawling back into the timber, but a large and im- personal languor had overwhelmed her. She did nothing, and in the stargleam the smudge of dull light made its slow ap- proach. With that approach might come anything —yet at the moment any effort to escape its menace was as impossible as it sometimes becomes in nightmare to run from calam- ity. She had come this far with a supreme effort, and now at the first approach of tan- gible danger she found herself helpless. Groping in the shadowy half consciousness of one stunned, the girl sought to focus—to revitalize—her energies for one move more, but like a guttering candle flame her self- defensive consciousness flared and went out. She was insensible. Her next moment of anything like clear perception was when she saw a human shape looming over her, grotesquely mag- nified and distorted by the wavering light of a lantern held close to her face, and heard a voice exclaiming: | ‘ Afore God, hit’s a woman! An’ hit ain’t no mounting woman!’’ Cynthia Meade held her breath until it almost suffocated her. Here in the person of a rough countryman stood the figure of fate. Here might be deliverance, protec- tion—or the power to turn her back into the hands she sought to escape with the ruthless ease of tossing a rat to a terrier. In the flicker from the yellow lantern the cirl could make out, in the road, the shape of a wagon with a canvas top stretched over arching supports. In the streets of Asheville she had seen several of these same strange vehicles, and they had appeared as out of place among the limousines that swept by them, as high-pooped galleons riding at anchor in the shipping of a mod- ern harbor. The flare fell, too, on the face of a man who held the !antern, and in that deceptive lighting he looked gigantic, formidable. But the face was, -on the whole, reas- suring. There was a kindltness in the eyes ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. and a lean strength of jaw and feature that declared generosity as well as granite- firm boldness. At all events, his one utter- ance had been in the dialect of the moun- taineer. Sooner or Jater she must throw her- self wholly on the mercy of such a hills- man. That was the essence of her plan. The chance was no more perilous now than it would be later. He was holding a flask in his hand, and as she looked up, wide eyed, he knelt down without a word, slipped an arm under her shoulders, and pressed the thing to her hips. ‘Ye seems plum spent,” he announced briefly. *‘ Don’t aim ter talk none yit a while. Jest take a long swig outen this.” As 1f a liquid fire had been poured be- tween her lips, she gasped and coughed, then felt the potent liquor delightfully tem- pered below her spasmodic throat, warming and reviving her arteries and soothing the nerves that had seemed dead. Meanwhile the man said nothing more. But when she arose unsteadily to her feet and he saw that she could stand, he spoke gravely: ‘“T don’t know what manner of mis- chance befell ye, ma’am, an’ I hain’t a- seekin’ ter question ye none. But I kain’t handily leave ye hyar ter perish by ther roadside.” He broke off, and then went on again with a trace of impatience in his voice. ** An’ yit I reckon ye belongs back thar in Asheville town, an’ I’m headed t’other way.” le shook his head and added doggedly: “ Thar hain’t nuthin’ else fer hit. I’ve p'intedly got ter head round ergin an’ fotch ye back ter town.” A fleod of unspeakable fears rushed afresh on the girl. She must not go back to town, and vet what could she tell this man? There appeared one effort only worth making, and that effort was to throw herself completely and unequivocally on his mercy. She had hoped to be farther away from the city before she cast the dice—but she could not govern fate. “No, no!’ she exclaimed, clutching spas- modically at his arm. ‘‘ I can’t go back. It would mean death. Death, I tell you! Which way are you going?” LA Conn clooo“lkks.com