Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 34: what you’re looking at

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

: the contrary. that is a point in its _ May I see the place? Are you the ‘IT am, miss; and you may.’ Blundell noted a possible customer weaving his way storeward and turned to Harper. _ * You show her the shack, Jim. You're — not busy.” | ‘“‘ Sure,” said the sheriff. miss.” “ Miss Juno,” said the girl. “ Since I am going to become a resident of your interest- ing little town, I suppose you'll have to learn my name sooner or later.” Harper removed his huge sombrero in a courtly manner as he, in turn, told her his name, but not his business. Courtliness was inherent in Geyser’s sheriff. Even to the poor drabs who in- fested the lowest dance hall, his manner was Chesterfieldian. In other ways also he differed from the ordinary run of Geyser men. His strong features were always clean-shaven, his heavy blond hair was combed and brushed, his boots were shined, the hands that could whip out six-guns or bind an injured dog’s leg with equal facility were as clean and muscularly sensitive as those of a master pianist. “Are you going into business, Miss Juno?” he queried as they proceeded toward the cluster of rough and unpainted struc- tures that had given Geyser its present evil name. “ Ves.” said the girl shortly, as though her attention were too much engrossed with the sights about her to permit of conversa- tion. In truth, these sights were sufficient to —_ the attention of even a woman hard- 1ed to life in a railroad camp during that wless period in Montana’s history. In both sides of a dusty thoroughfare d not even boast a sidewalk, a num- yf hastily carpentered structures stuck e sore fingers, ro h-boarded, unpaint- ate c and garish in the 4 ig t. The camp was y. Here and there a besotted he °° gpine, his back Ss, his head on “ Come along. ie, He. er be open to question. The g ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEERLY. out her make-up, flitted from one den to an- other. Heaps of tin cans and litters of rubbish offended the eye at every turn. With the coming of night, things would be different. Darkness would hide the ugli- ness: lights would blaze, hard-faced harpies would again resemble real women. Raucoys laughter would mingle with the blare of musical instruments, roulette bajls would « whir and click, dancing feet would scrunch the floor, money would jingle on the long counter of the Lone Star Saloon and Dance Hall. The proprietor, Dan Sherrard, would smile in his usual oily manner and pour in- gratiating phrases of false fellowship into the ears of poor fools from the camps. Harper did not fail to observe that Miss Juno shuddered and her lips tightened and looked hard and determined as she neared the vacant shack opposite the Lone Star. ‘“‘'That’s the place,” he said. “If you want an observation post for a close view of hell, I can recommend it highly.” She glanced through a dusty window into the bare interior, and before Harper had even opened the door she answered: “ It’s just what I’m looking for.” She examined the inside of the little cabin and again smiled with satisfaction. Harper looked at her more closely than before. His curiosity was Increasing. “ You wish to Ave here?” he queried. ‘‘Live here and work here, too,” the strange girl answered. ‘ Conduct a little store of some sort, may- be?” “No; not a store.” They left the place and headed back to- ward Blundell’s. One of the dance hall women shuffled around a corner and almost ran into them. Miss Juno shrank back and clutched Har- per’s arm in an involuntary gesture of re- pulsion. ‘What a horrible creature!” she ex- claimed. The woman glared and passed on, and the girl quickly let go of Harper's arm as she realized what she was doing. In the mind of an ordinary man the in- cident would have banished any atom of doubt that Miss Juno’s propesetiag Ped ee... com