The Argosy for May — page 139: what you’re looking at

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

326 “We were the explosion,” replied Kate. ‘ Didn’t you know what that was? Well, that was dynamite. Mary knew where her father kept it. He had to go up in the hills last evening, and a passing hunter gave us the notice of your execution. Mary and I were frantic for a time, and I happened to say I’d like to blow up the old prison. Mary said ‘Let’s.’ Well, to make a short story of it, we took the dynamite and shattered the jail. ‘Vhank God, we didn’t hurt you. But you were going to be shot, anyway. We took the chance of either getting you out or killing you.” Here was a girl! I hugged her as we hurried to the mining camp. There was, of course, a sensation. But ~ with horses loaned us by O’Donnell, and a guide who knew a roundabout way to the border, we started on a long journey to Argentina. We reached the Plate River, and found a boatman who would take us to Buenos Ayres. At Buenos Ayres we rested, and on the morning following our arrival Kate and I talked over our affairs. ‘“T’ve got money enough,” I said, ‘and a profession. You are practically mistress of your own affairs. Why wait? Let us go to the United States embassy and be married.” THE THE ARGOSY. She agreed. We were courteously received at the embassy. . “T think we know all about you,” said a high official. ‘‘ We have even now as a guest a young lady from Santa Rosa. She has interested the ambassador in the matter, but we feared it would be too late. Anyway, you are in safe hands now.” “Who is the young lady?” I asked in surprise. ‘“Why—Senorita Isobel Fernandez, the daughter of the old don. She ran away from home, rather than go to Spain, and sought refuge here. Learning that she was engaged to marry an American, of course we gave her our most hearty protection.” In ten minutes Isobel was in Balover’s arms, and there were two weddings in- stead of one. You can imagine the rest—the long ex- planations, the laughter, and the tears; though there was little to cry about, except joy. We sailed for New York, where we still are, a little older, but just as happy, and Balover and I are both prosperous. We often argue. [ insist that I did not give him any assistance when he asked it, and he insists that I did. I leave you to judge. END. A MILLIONAIRE’S DILEMMA. By M. GERTRUDE MILLER. How a wealthy Californian came to run amuck in a New York hotel noted for its quiet elegance. W "de Sam Johnson registered at Denver or Chicago hotels, every- body got busy, and the best room in the house was at his disposal. For be it known that from Chicago to the Coast, Sam Johnson was popularly known as the “ Mining King.” It was, therefore, from force of habit that, upon reaching New York late one Saturday afternoon, in the teeth of a northwest blizzard, he looked about him as he alighted from the cab to see how many of the “boys,” as he termed re- porters, might be waiting for him. The capitalist whom he had come East to meet, in connection with a railroad deal, had, however, designated a quiet hotel, in order to keep the matter out of the papers, and Johnson’s arrival attracted no attention. The clerk appeared no more con- cerned by the bold signature, ‘Sam Johnson, California,” than if he had signed “John Doe, New York”; and, indeed, beyond a certain freedom of movement gained in the open, there was CORTICLOO© S (C@