Argosy All-Story Weekly, June 27, 1925 — page 90: what you’re looking at

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

A gGOSY- ALLSTORY WEEKLY, dances,” she an- ; felt a tee d on his arm and Se I et go through the tautened sp my something troubling re aught thet kin be holped,” he a@n- rtly. ae ioe that I can help?” | 7 «No, naught thet anybody kin same u least of all.” There was 2” no ferocious note in his voice, and Cynthia, after looking at him searchingly for a - ment, said: “I think I'll go back and wat the dance.” She tumed, and as your” she she walked to the house, he started impulsively fo to follow and stop her, then. self and clenched his fists with her. When she had disap side the door, the man wheeleq rea . dered, with none of his Cat-footed J; Un, of step, to the black shadow of thes He let his head drop in to hj.“ forearms, and his voice came brok — ‘T hain’t nuver hungered fer a * afore,” he told himself vehemently, « Sa like she kin make me ache thioy Ang body an’ soul— Seems like I’m sited famished fer her— Ther longin’ fe be parches my throat—an’ I knows right wey hit won’t nowise do!” He gripped his face in his hands and his chest heaved as if with the hot strain of an emotion near to the bursting point, da: HE Caught hat TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK 0 U Lo THE LONG TRAIL GNE me a pipe with a chunk of tobaccy, A gun for my shoulder, a road and a dog, And I'll envy no man, be he Creesus or Cesar, While I hike through the woodlands and rest on a log. There’s the stars in the ev’nin’ a twinklin’ above you, The moon in its orbit adrift in the sky, And a big slice of bacon in th’ fryin’ pan sizzlin’— Oh, who’s more content in the world then than I? Let the coyote sit wailin’ the fate of the trail’s end, For the baco And at dawn And partridges Oh, the trail, oh, It is turning an 0 the valleys an 0 th Let me fill y N is sizzlin’, the spring’s bubbling clear, there’ll be plenty of sunshine to cheer me, Tustlin’ and fleet-footed deer. the trail, it is winding and twisting, d changing, and leading me on e d meadows beyond the still mountains, ass and the clover, where I'll be anon! And whist my pipe, place my gun on my shoulder, And Tl folt WwW th ea tune, with my dog at my side; € trail that I always have followed, Comes to leave it and cross the Divide. ? chlesinge”* Frederick Schenck Sch MGI SS Co