Adventure, November 1915 — page 87: what you’re looking at

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

The Strength of Small 85 “Et es so!’”’ he replied. “Then do it for my sake, Pierre—for my sake. What is to become of me if my fath- er dies?” “T will take care of you-—” She stepped away from him. “You want him to die!’ she cried. “May- be you can save him now, but you’ll not try. You’d murder him by not helping him, then give his daughter a home——”’ She ran swiftly to the chair, snatched up the long muffler, and began winding it about her head. The tears were flowing down _ her cheeks. “Then I'll go back through the storm!” she cried. “Tl go back and watch—until theend. For I can do nothing but watch— I am not strong enough, and I do not know how. I can not even tell where and how he is hurt.” She stopped for a moment to sob. “And all the mountains shall know the story,” she added, looking at him de- fiantly, ‘‘and know. how to judge you. Per- haps it is best. Perhaps my father would curse me for coming to you and asking help.” She turned toward the door. ‘Hold on, there!”’ cried Pearson. ‘‘Noth- ing like this, whatever! You came for help, and you’re going to get it, young woman. T’ll go back with you—perhaps I can do something.” “Thank you—oh, thank you! storm——” “T guess I can make it, if you can.” “T’ll go, too,’ said Holland. “Where are my coat and gloves? What’ll we need, Miss Rancour?” “T—I don’t know,” she said. Sylvester Small walked toward them. “T’ll go, too,” he said. “I know some- thing of medicine——” “You couldn’t make it fifty feet from the door, Small,” Pearson said. ‘“‘You’d be picked up and blown away by the wind. We'll have all we can do to get there our- selves, without helping a chap like you.” “But perhaps I could give some aid,” he persisted, reaching for his coat. ‘‘I’ll take the medicine-case I brought with me——”’ “You couldn’t make it, Small,’ said Hol- land. Small’s eyes flamed; that soft smile did not come into his face now. “And what can you and Pearson do when you get there?” he asked. ‘‘What can you do to help an unconscious man that prob- But the ably has a lot of broken bones? With your permission, Miss Rancour——” But the girl already had unbolted the door and thrown it open. Again the wind, and the swirl of snow and sleet came in, and Small, unconsciously, half turned away from it. “You see?” said Pearson, laughing. “You -couldn’t make it in a million years!’’ He followed the girl out, Holland at his heels, and Pierre closed the door. IIT SYLVESTER SMALL turned back toward the fire, holding the heavy coat in his hands. Pierre had walked to the table and taken a drink of brandy. He sat down before the fire, bowed his head in his hands. “If I knew the way—” whispered Small, half to himself. “Let ’em go,” said Pierre. ‘“‘Zis Jacques Rancour—he es my enemy zis twenty year. Efery time we meet, we fight, until four year ago, when ze sheriff come out an’ tell us we go to jail ef we fight more. So now we nefer look when we meet in ze town or in ze — An’ why should I go help heem, e 3? “That isn’t the idea!” shapped Small. “He’s a plain, ordinary human being that’s been smashed up. I know‘ doctors who’d nurse back to health a man they’d like to shoot like a cur. I know one who operated’ on a man and saved him, then fought a duel and killed the man he had saved. It’s the idea of letting a human being die without trying to help save him.”’ “Maybe so, m’sieu; I do not t’ink so.” Small paced back and forth across the room. “T’m a mighty little man,” he burst out, stopping in the center. “I couldn’t make much of a hit at polo or football, but maybe I’m of some use in the world. Itook part of | a course in medicine when I was studying chemistry—came near being a sawbones— and I could help that man, perhaps, if he isn’t past help. Pearson and Holland are strong enough to get through the storm, I suppose, but what the deuce will they do when they get there? They can only keep the girl company until her father dies—keep her from being alone with her sorrow. And you and I could do things, Pierre.”’ “Maybe so.” CORMICGLOOOKS (Ee) Dey hie Te) seer ee ak Sn hee ET 7 PY ASE task: EPS 3 ,