The Argosy — page 363: what you’re looking at

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

342 In the Dead of Night. “And don’t you think you are a pretty sort of scoundrel to make me any such offer? Don’t you think » “Now look you here, Mr. St. George—if that is your name, which I very much doubt—don’t let you and I begin to fling mud at one another, because that is a game at which I could lick you into fits. I have made you a fair offer. If we can’t come to terms, there’s no reason why we shouldn't part friendly.” | Once again Kester walked on in silence. The snow had been coming down more thickly for some time past, and already the dull grey moor began to look strange and unfamiliar, but neither of the two men gave more than a passing thought to the weather. “Tf you feel and know your case to be such a strong one,” said Kester, at last, “why do you come to me at all? Why send a white flag into your enemy’s camp! Why not fight him a loutrance at once?” ‘‘ Because I’m neither so young nor so pugnacious as I once was,” answered Skeggs. ‘‘I goin for peace and quiet now-a-days. I don’t want the bother and annayance of a law-suit. I have no ill-feeling towards you, and if you will only make me a fair offer, 1 shall be the last man in the world to disturb you in any way. Gemini! how the snow comes down! Weare only about nae way yet. We shall have some difficulty in picking our road across.’ “T myself am as anxious as you can be, Mr. Skeggs, to be saved the trouble and annoyance of a law-suit, however sure I may feel that the result would be in my favour. But you must give me a little time to think this matter over. It is far too important to be decided ata moment’s notice.” | “Time? To be sure. You can make up your mind in about a couple of days, I suppose. Shall I call upon you, or will you call upon me?” Hardly were the words out of Mr. Skeggs’s mouth when his wooden leg sunk suddenly into a hidden hole in the pathway. Thrown forward by the shock, the lawyer came heavily to the ground, and at the same moment his leg snapped short off just below the knee. Kester took him by the shoulders and assisted him to assume a sitting posture on the footpath. Mr. Skeggs’s first action was to pick up his broken limb and look at it with a sort of comical despair. ‘‘ There goes a friend that has done me good service,” he said; “but he might have lasted till he got me home, for all that. How the deuce am I to get home?” he asked, turning abruptly to Kester. Kester paused for a minute and looked round before answering. The snow was coming down faster than ever. The moor was being — gradually turned into a huge white carpet. Already its zig-zag paths and winding footways were barely distinguishable from the treacherous bog which lay on every side of them. In an hour and a half it would Eomicbooks.co