Argosy, Vol. 118, No. 4 — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

‘498 ery tempered with rage—brought Lawler to a pause as he crossed the threshold of the doorway. He turned and looked back at Warden, puzzled, for it seemed to him that Warden was defying him; and he seemed to feel the atmosphere of compla- cence that surrounded the man. His man- ner hinted of secret knowledge—strongly; it gave Lawler an impression of something stealthy, clandestine. Warden’s business methods were not like Lefingwell’s. Lefingwell had been bluff, frank, and sincere; there was something in Warden’s manner that seemed to exude craft and guile. The contrast between the two men was sharp, acute, startling; and ‘Lawler descended the stairs feeling that he had just been in contact with something that crept instead of walking upright like a man. A recollection of the woman he had met at the foot of the stairs came to Lawler as he descended, and thoughts of her did much to erase the impression he had gained of Warden. He grinned, thinking of how he had caught her watching him as he had mounted the stairs. And then he reddened as he realized that he would not have known she was watching him had he not turned to look back at her. He found himself wondering about her— why she had been in Warden’s office, and who could she be. And then he remembered his conversation with Blackburn, about “‘ chapperowns,” and he decided she must be that woman to whom Blackburn had re- ferred as “a woman at Lefingwell’s old place, keepin’ Warden company.” He frowned, and crossed the street, going toward the railroad station building, in which he would find the freight agent. _ And as he walked he was considering another contrast—that afforded by his glimpse of the strange woman and Ruth Hamlin. And presently he found himself smiling with pleasure, with a mental picture of Ruth’s face before him—her clear, di- rect-looking, honest eyes, with no guile in them like that which had swam in the eyes that had gazed into his at the foot of the stairs. ” Over in Corwin’s store, where “ Aunt Hannah,” had gone to make some small THE ARGOSY. purchases, the woman who had encountered Lawler in the hall was talking with the pro- prietor. Aunt Hannah was watching a clerk wrap her purchases. ‘* Della,” she called, “ do you want any- thing?” “Nothing, aunty,” returned the woman. Then she lowered her voice, speaking to Corwin: “So he owns the Circle L? large ranch?” “One of the biggest in the Wolf River section,” declared Corwin. “Then Lawler must be wealthy.” “‘ IT reckon he’s got wads of dust, ma’am.”’ The woman’s eyes glowed with satis- faction. © “Well,” she said; “I was just curious about him. He is a remarkably striking looking man, isn’t he?” “ You’ve hit it, ma’am,” grinned Corwin. ‘ T’ve been years tryin’ to think up a word that would fit him. You’ve hit it. He’s different. Looks like one of them statesmen with cow-puncher duds on—like a Gover- nor or somethin’, which is out of place here.”’ The woman smiled affirmation. ‘So he does,”’ she said reflectively. “‘ He is big, and imposing, and strikingly handsome. And he is educated, too, isn’t he?” “T reckon he is,” said Corwin. “ Pri- vately, that is. His maw was a scholar of some kind back East, before she married Luke Lawler an’ come out here to live with him. Luke’s dead, now—died five years ago. Luke was a wolf, ma’am, with a gun. He could shoot the buttons off your coat with his eyes shut. An’ he was so all-fired fast with his gun that he’d make a streak of lightnin’ look like it was loafin’. Luke had a heap of man in him, ma’am, an’ Kane is just as much of a man as his dad was, I reckon. Luke was—” _ “About Kane Lawlor,” interrupted the woman. ‘“ You say he is well educated?” ““ That’s about the only thing I’ve got agin’ him, ma’am. I hold that no cattle- man has got a right to know so durned much. It’s mighty dangerous—to his folks —if.he ever gets any. Now take Kane Lawler. If he was to marry a girl that wasn’t educated like him, an’ he’d begin to Is that a DOOK