Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 221: what you’re looking at

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

212 A “Thank you, Mr. Murdock. I am sure I shall like it. I shall rest easy now that I have seen you again.” “Did you think I wouldn't come back? ” “No, your word satished me, but after such a long hunt I’d rather keep you with me. You understand?” “Yes. I must get back. Good by.” Murdock slipped away as abruptly as he had done before. After listening for a moment to his retreating foot- steps, Bradshaw went back to the camp. Pan was standing as if rooted to the spot where he had received his em- ployer'’s last command. ‘‘ Here I am, Pan,” said Bradshaw, in a tone that conveyed reproof. “ You see your tremors were not justified. You may post a picket in the ravine now.” “You have brought something, Mr. Bradshaw.” “Yes, a cake, or something of that kind, that my friend made for me. I’m not hungry now, but I'll sample it and then turn in.'” Pan reached out in the darkness and snatched the cake from his employer's hands. | “ What the nmischie began angrily. ‘The cub has not been fed,” inter- rupted Pan, in an agitated whisper. “This will do for him.” He had leaped to the spot where the cub was tethered. ‘“ Come here, you impudent rascal! ” exclaimed Bradshaw. “ Youre carry- ing familiarity too far, m: ine fellow,” and he strode up to Pan. “Listen, Mr. Bradshaw!” said the latter, with such an intense accent of earnestness that Bradshaw paused in wonder. He heard the cub crunching some- thing, and despite Murdock’s warning he struck a match to see what was going on. Pan had given the little beast a frag- ment of the cake. It had been partly ” Bradshaw THE ARGOSY. swallowed, when in the flare of the match, Bradshaw saw the cub suddenly stagger, work his jaws as if trying to be ric of the morsel, and stumble upon his side while his legs quivered convul- sively ; and before the match went out the cub was dead. “Good God!” gasped Bradshaw, sick with horror. Immediately he struck another match and with shaking hand held it over the cub to be certain that he had seen aright. The black man held the rest of the cake toward him. “Mr. Bradshaw,” he said, “ shall your slave eat of this to convince you that you should let it alone? ” CHAPTER VI. MURDOCK’S QUEST. BRADSHAW recoiled from the prof- fered cake with a gesture of horror. ‘There must be some mistake,” he said. “It may be so,” answered Pan, with his customary gravity ; “ of course it is if you say so, but the cake is poisoned.” “Mr. Murdock could not have known it.” ‘“ Perhaps, if you say so, but the cake 13 poisoned.” This quiet iteration of the appaling truth fairly prostrated the American. ‘“T must sit down and think,” he said faintly. “Oh, Irene! what message shall I take home to you, my darling? ” They went to his shake down and for a full minute Bradshaw sat with his | head in his hands, trying to bring the — bewildered tumult of his thoughts to order. It was Pan who broke the si- lence. ‘** May I speak? ”’ he asked. “Oh, help me, Pan!” Bradshaw moaned. “A second time you have saved my life.” “TI would have eaten the cake myself if the useless cub had not been at hand,” said Pan; “I was so Sure of COLUUGLO Then he looked at Pan. — OO CO