Argosy All-Story Weekly, 4 February 1922 — page 58: what you’re looking at

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

. Caf Roa ——- ” ‘_ a ee SS -—_ ss poe oe ~~ 4 - - ok = o ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, s : = as they followed its course between the sae: ( Suddenly Dean’s horse pricked up its ears -_bowlders. and reared. == It was not far from dawn when Lois pulled in her horse. They had reached the : summit of the elevation up which they had been climbing steadily for four hours. _- Everywhere about them rose the granite hills, bare, save for thorn scrub and cactus. __ “We must leave the path now,” she said. “Tt lies over there.” She pointed toward twin kopjes that tow- 2 ‘ered like pyramids in the distance, with -_ wooded bush veldt between them. “ -_ a native village until the Portuguese raided “ It was “ What is that?” cried the girl. Something was lying huddled among the bowlders. Dean dismounted and led the shying beast toward it. It was the body of a man—of two men. One was Tietjens, the other the Bushman Swartz, and they were fast in each other’s arms, but in no love embrace. Upon the face of each was stamped the last fury of the death struggle. Tietjens had a gaping gun-shot wound in the breast, such a should have killed a white man instantly. it three years ago. My father knew of it; ae Swartz’s head was nearly severed from his that is where he is lymg.” body by a common small clasp knife, held On their - They rested a few moments. immovably in Tietjens’s fingers. right hand, in a deep gorge, the Fulani Both bodies were cold, but they had not roared, now a furious torrent, i ble begun to stiffen. They had probably been even at the drift, until the spate abated. dead an hour. (To be continued NEXT WEEK.) ” aad - ee < = — > me ~- . a Jack Whitman aT te ie HE younger generation sure beats all! Straight H, just as I was for fifteen years = | I can’t make ’em out. They don’t for his late lamented uncle, Steve Haskell. = vote like their fathers did, and they But Bill’s always doin’ things I can’t make - don’t act like the men that made this great out. You never know what he’s goin’ to and glorious land of desert, sand, bunch- - grass and scrawny cattle. Take for in- - stance this young Bill Haskell. Under- stand I haven’t got a thing against Bill— he’s a good lad accordin’ to his mazdas, ___which ain’t mine, and I’m plumb satisfied -couldn’t be moved from where he stood, | _ to go on bein’ foreman for him here on the what’s more. Him and I got along fine. “3 a ae << do next, or how. But there’s one good thing about Bill, which is like old Steve— he sure gets things done. Old Steve was easy to comprehend. You | always knew just where he stood, and he : {Var A Nee or <<< - ._———= <a — 0 ae Fa he” < -* aoe a ae es eae > we aol a A ~ eam, a me 1EDOOKS-CO = - ~ a = © - - - —— - a a ran ss La ~— C= —— as (0) aie Se SSeS <f a ee a | np a RS OA OS