Argosy, Vol. 123, No. 2 — page 102: what you’re looking at

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

234 posed as a retired pueilist; his face had that battered look. Yet the eyes denied the rest of his features. For they were bright, steady, and wide open, with brim- ming kindliness. They fell first of alk upon the hair which Tyson had uncovered as soon as he entered the place. ‘This ts Padre Miguel,” began the girl, “and this, padre, is—” “ Senor Tyson,” nodded the father. He advanced with a kindly smile and took the hand of Tyson. ‘We have heard of you every day since you met Rona yonder im the woods,” he said. “I am glad to know you, sever.” He spoke English with perfect wnder- standing of the words, that was evident, but his pronunciation was a little strange, like that of one whose knowledge of a language has been ehiefly drawn from books. Ob- viously he must have done most of his work in this land among the peons and the Inchans. “Tm equally glad to know you, Father Miguel,” said Tyson. ‘ To tell the truth, I’ve been almost worried about a man of: such powers.” And he watched the padre keenly. The latter flushed, and then made a little gesture of deprecation, saying: “‘ Rona has been talking. She will do that, sewor. She has told you about withered limbs, and—” He paused and smiled, amd Tyson gave an extra pressure of understandmg to his hand. ‘This is. Senor Carnahan,” continued the padre, turning away to the other. Carnahan fumbled at his bearded chin, Staring vaguely at the newcomer, as though he saw a form of misty thinness and could look through and through the younger man, while Tyson spoke his greeting. ‘“Father!”’ cut in Rona sharply, softly. Carnahan started like one recalled from a dreany, and then advanced and took the hand of his guest. ‘We have heard much of you, sir,” he said, and Tyson’s eyes opened as he heard the voice of the man—the unmistakable in- tonation of culture, “and of how you crossed a river—not quite so large as the Rubicon.” - A lean, cold hand, barely tonching that of Tyson, withdrew, and Carnahan pointed his littke speech with a bow. At once the tattered clothes were forgotten; the un- kempt beard appearedmagically changed te a trim Vani Dyck; the walls of the hovel fell away inte an imagimary vista over soft, thick carpets, past massive, polished tables, and huxuriously upholstered chairs. ‘Be seated, sir,” continued the host. “Rona, a chair for Mr. Tyson.” He looked about him, smiling gently. Aside from a few boxes, the only thing in the shape of a seat. was the one which had been recently occupied by the padre. “This will do very well,” said Tyson hastily, and took a box from @ corner and drew it out. He caught the anxious eye of the an and the quizzical frown of the padre woo him, and nodded covertly, reassuringly. ‘Are you comfortable there?’ asked Carnahan cordially, as they settled down, Rona on the roll of bedding in the corner, ‘Rona, will you bring something fer Mr, Tyson to smoke? What will you have, sir? Cigars? Cigarettes? Rona, my dear, you will find everything in my smoking< cabmet.” ‘Please don’t trouble,” siteeaikea Tysoa hurriedly. : ‘No trouble at all. Light or dark cigars, sir? What is your preference? If—~”’ = ies I really don’t wish to ss just now.’ “No? Well, well! For my part, I have grown attached to tobacco and brown papers. The knack of rolling them is diffi- cult to learn, but now I anmse myself very often making theny.”’ He ithastrated by instantly producing a little sack of tobacco and a package of the papers, and rolled his smoke deftly. A mo- ment later it was between his lips. While he lighted it, the padre looked again, quizzically, toward Tyson, and the latter nddded and smiled in understanding. Carnahan, apparently, thought himself seated in some finely appomted home. It was pitiful te watch him im his miserable rags, and a little ludicrous as well; and Tyson thought he understood the brooding look of sadness which he had sometimes, noted in the eyes of Rona. NOOK C@