The Argosy, April 1916 — page 141: what you’re looking at

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

FOOLS OF SACRIFICE. having admitted Ransom at the far end of the hall, returned to the fireplace Michael invited him in a loud voice to ‘‘come up to the card-room. ‘We'll see,” said he, “‘whether I can get myself out of the fix you left me in last night at chess.” They went up the wide, winding stair- case side by side. Captain Neville advanced to meet his overseer midway in the hall, where William stood leaning against the billiard-table. “Captain,” Ransom began with a cau- tious, thoughtful air, ‘““you remember about that ten thousand dollars reward, don’t you?” ‘You mean for the absconder from New York?—I forget the name.” “Stephen Weir of New York, yes, cap- tain. You rec’llect you promised me be- fore witnesses one-half if I—” “Perfectly, Ransom.” “Well, I have found the man Stephen Weir.” “What are you trying to tell me, Ran- som?” the captain exclaimed incredulously. Evidently. the overseer was not over- _ trustful, which accounted for the lack of tact in his query: “You ain’t goin’ back on your word, are you, captain?” Only the sickening suspicion that five thousand dollars might be snatched out of his grasp threw the overseer off his usual guard of cringing astuteness. Only such a contemptible insinuation could have ruined him in the eyes of Captain Neville. For a moment or two he eyed the over- seer searchingly and in silence. “Vou’re a lost man, William Ransom,” he said then, pronouncing sentence slowly and dispassionately. “It’s been a gradual process I can see now, and I’m sorry for you—and shall attempt in no way to make you pay the price of your insult to me. First disloyalty, and then—this! “Tet me remind you of something, Wil- liam, for after &ll you have brains and don’t deserve to go to the gods—even for the treachery you tried to do us here. I never wished you to take in Jake Haas and Sailor Pete at the Settlement—you know that. But I let you have them because you argued they were cleverer than your blacks. They are—and a cursed sight more lazy, vicious and good-for-nothing than the blackest black man on Big Twin Island. “Among their own kind they would have 131 walked the plank long ago. At the Settle- ment they felt they could look down on the others and when they got tired of doing that they began to poison all you fellows against the big house, as you call it. “No one but a low-down white man could have conceived the revolt idea—you need not tell me otherwise—even if they’ve. put all their responsibility on you and fooled you into believing you held them in the hollow of your hand—that you were their leader. You—a mulatto! ‘‘And now before you offer me an iota of proof that you are entitled to this ten- thousand-dollar reward you hint that I mean to swindle you!” ‘““You’ve said a lot, captain,’”’ Ransom re- turned, tumbling his words in his hurry and anger, ‘‘and most of what ain’t true and some dirty mean. But I ain’t got much time, ’cos I have trouble coming up to see you and I got to get back quick and what you say I’m lyin’ about proving my find to you’’—Ransom simply was forced to pause for breath—‘‘is a lie out of your own face, if I do beg your pardon, and I'll just show you you can’t lie to me and call me names, ’cos blowed if I endure such doings—rot me if I will!” The overseer’s two hands were flung wrathfully in the air; his shrill treble cracked like glass at his final words, and he rushed away to the door that opened on the entrance-hall. | He had not covered more than half the distance when the door was flung open. from the outside and, screaming frantically, Jolly George dashed into the great hall. His arms and face were smeared with blood that ran from his nostrils in streams upon his green shirt. Wild-eyed and terri- fied, he made for Captain Neville, holding aloft in one hand his mandolin, which was smashed into unrecognizable shape. Ransom stepped to one side, mystified and alarmed, as the boy passed him. “They’ve killed the guard, captain— killed them and got Black Henry out of irons—and—and—”’ The boy sobbed hysterically and clutched the welcoming hand that reached © out to save him from falling. ‘Who, Jolly? Who’s doing this?” Cap- tain Neville asked. For an instant Jolly George studied Over- seer Ransom timorously; then, winding the captain’s arm across his shoulder and snug- gling close to him, the boy replied: 1OOOLK C@