Argosy All-Story Weekly, June 27, 1925 — page 83: what you’re looking at

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

FLIGHT TO Wades an’ Smalls an’ all ther balance of ther Murrells tergither an’ make ’em jest one outright speech—an’ they’d go away from thet meetin’ stronger in th’ar con- fidence fer me then what they ever was afore. But I hain’t ergoin’ ter do that. ‘“‘T hain’t ergoin’ ter do hit because de- spite ther fact thet /’d be master solid with ‘em, they’d go straight away from thar bilin’ with thet fashion of wrath thet leads on ter warfarin’ an’ bloodshed. Thet’s what I’ve always done sought ter sarcumvent an’ thet’s why ye've got ter hold yore counsel erbout what I tells ye now. Does ye both give me yore hands in pledge ter hold what I says secret?” Cynthia, behind her blinds, héard no answer, but she supposed they had nodded’ their solemn affirmation of the compact, for Murrell went on again. “ This hyar whole commotion erginst this woman—an’ I believes she’s as decent as yore own women—was stirred up by Lesher Skidmore. He went erbout hit right crafty- wise. He didn’t cast no slurs hisself, but he seed ter hit thet ther Murrells cast ’em. He aimed ter split us Murrells apart an’ ter sunder our blood-ties—so he could lay-way me without bein’ held ter account. He aimed ter compass his own vengeance through my own kith an’ kin, an’ afore God, hit looks right sensibly like ye all swallered his bait—hook, line an’ sinker.” ‘“‘ Lesher Skidmore! Afore God A’mighty —ef that’s so—” “Hold on thar Uncle Enoch. Thar ye goes gittin’ hot in ther collar. Ye sees now how less-thoughled men would fly mad, ef I give thet story our ter each an’ every?” He paused and into his voice came the tinc- ture of infinite hate. “ Betwixt Lesher an’ me thar stands a score ter sottle thet kain’t be nowise sottled save by death—but him an’ me both, we aims ter bide our time twell we kin meet without we causes ther truce ter bust. Leastways, I’m bidin’ my time, an’ him— he’s seekin’ ter hev ther Murrells pull his chestnuts outen ther ember-coals fer him.” Again out there a silence fell, and again a whippoorwill broke it. Finally, Cynthia heard Enoch Wade speaking once more in deep-toned gravity. “ Wade,” he said soberly, “I ham nuver ceased ter confidence ye my own sell What ye says, hit’s a lavish ter satisfy om —but by yore own tellin’ we kain’t go baci an’ give ther whole gist of hit ter them thet deputized us. They sont us hyar te lay down kinderly final terms. Them terms was ter wed ther gal—or send her away— or else ther Murrells aimed ter spit yore counsel outen thar mouths. Like es not they ‘lows thet gittin’ ter be a rich man hes done changed ye. I’m farin’ back thar ter reason with them shaller-witted fools—an' ef thar’s a bust up I stands solid with you, but right sorely I mistrusts ther outcome.” “Wed ther gal—or send her away.” That was the ultimatum. To Cynthia, sitting there in her room, all the rest of the talk seemed swallowed up in that. In a few days life had taken the metal of her being and played upon it blasts from a merciless forge, heating it red. Thea life had held her, molten, between anvil and sledge. Perhaps it had already refashioned her a little, or perhaps she was responding Lo one of those brief, dramatic impulses that come to the theatric minded. At all events, she arose unsteadily from her chair. She could not let them dethrone Wade Murrell on her account. She would go out there and give an answer to the ultimatum she had heard. She would prom- ise these men to go away. Going away meant prison—possibly death—but that was her own funeral. It seemed that stay- ing here meant ruin for her protector—pos- sibly a fresh eruption of assassinations and the making of widows and orphans. “It’s up to me,” she groaned time I’ve got to come through.” Quietly she let herself out of her door, and then stood leaning weakly against the sill, in the blotting indigo shadow that hung along that side of the dog run. Out there beyond, as she looked off, the night-scape was a wondrous thing of silver light from a moon of almost calcium bright- ness. A world of illuminated silver lay over against an emphasis of cobalt shadows, and a few feet away stood the three men, starkly and boldly outlined in that light like figures cut from granite. Now on the threshold of her dramatic Cé This conniclooolkks Co