Argosy, Vol. 123, No. 2 — page 100: what you’re looking at

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

‘(ride of -fyson b/ John Frederick Author of “Crossroads,” “ Luck,” ete. WHAT HAS ALREADY HAPPENED OUGH, and lacking in the social graces, yet avidly desirous of possessing them if their accom- _plishment would win for him the regard of Margaret Tyson, Garth, builder of the Chiluah Valley dam, had brought thither Henry Tyson, the girl’s brother, as the bait which might lure Margaret across the three thousand miles of distance intervening. Tyson, however, was unaware of this—he had signed an agreement at his own insistence, to labor on the dam for six months, his sole object being to fit himself physically for a boxing bout with Garth, who had bested him on a previous occasion. Such was Tyson’s pride—a flame of spirit stronger than his body. : Then, on a certain pay-day, having spent seven of his twelve-dollar salary for two ties, one of them a curious, snakelike affair, he spent a dollar, half of his remaining capital, for a square meal (he roomed merely at Mrs. Casey’s boarding-house, taking his meals where he could find them). Then, filled to repletion, wandering in the forest, he met Rona Armitage Carnahan, a very dryad of the woods, to whom he presented the gorgeous cravat. Thereafter, following a strenuous week of starvation and grinding labor, he again met Rona, walking with Kennedy, a gambler—and the man was wearing the tie! Getting rid of the gambler by a ruse, he walked with the girl, who entertained him with talk of her confessor, Padre Miguel, as also with the legend of the two mountains at either end of the valley, La Cabeza and La Blanca, stating that she was engaged to marry Kennedy because he had seen the “ face” of La Cabeza, and one seeing this face would either die or marry the girl of his choice within the year. confessed that she did not love Kennedy, whom she spoke of as the “ Big Man.” Accidentally, Tyson broke a bottle of whisky she was carrying to her father—a drunkard. There came a wail from Rona.. She was on her knees, trying to scoop up the precious fluid. It was then that she rose and fairly leaped at Tyson, the narrow blade of her stiletto glittering above her head. CHAPTER XVIII. MUSIC—AND OTHER THINGS. T would have been as easy to avoid her as to avoid the lunge of a snake; besides, he was too frozen with astonishment to move. But -her rush was checked even as she reached him. The chime of a bell floated down the Chiluah toward them, thin and small and far away, almost like a voice whistling on the wind. The knife dropped from the nerveless hand of Rona, and clattered on the stones. She fell upon her knees, crumpling as though an invisible hand from above had smitten her to the earth. Sobs shook her terribly, and the sound of her weeping went through the heart of Tyson like the grief of a strong man whose strength is broken. ~~“ Madre dolorosa! There were words, too, in her weeping, and when he leaned, he heard, over and over: Madre mia! cita!”’ Slowly the chiming of the well-matched : bells throbbed away to silence, and Henry Tyson heard the faint whisper of the girl at her prayers for the dead. It touched a chord of awe in him and set it trembling to listen to her, and all the loneliness of the desert fell about him, and he heard the faraway rustle of the Chiluah, until it seemed that the wild girl was kneeling at the very feet of her Maker. She looked up, at length, her eyes starry with tears, and her lips trembled. ‘Shall I ever be forgiven?” she whis- pered. ‘‘ Tell me, senor, shall I ever be forgiven?” To hear such words from her—it was like This story began in The Argosy for July 3. comiclboool< Also, she — _Madre-