Adventure, February 1917 — page 192: what you’re looking at

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

190 much right to be touchy, that’s sure.”” She smiled a little wryly, then reverted to a sub- ject already touched on. “I reckon Duke was right disappointed when you caught those knives so easy.’ “Yes. He certainly counted on my dodging and letting him clean up that twenty-dollar gold-piece.”’ The girl shook her head thoughtfully. “No, I reckon he didn’t want you to dodge—he just wanted you to miss one. If you had, it would have gone clean through you!” The ‘young man’s glance flickered over her keenly. ‘“‘What makes you reckon that way?” he asked. “Well, Duke acted real ugly, it seemed tome. He threw those knives at you hard. He certainly meant something mean. I tell you I know how people throw when they throw in earnest—I used to shoot a good basket-ball in the old Sutro High.” She leaned toward him and spoke in a confiden- -tial undertone. “T’ve noticed Duke watch- ing you lately when he was sure you weren’t noticing. What’s he got against you any- way, Nick?” - For a moment the other was silent. “‘If he’s got anything, it’s news to me,” he re-. oined presently. “I never saw this man uke Bartlett until I drifted in here last month. Is hea particular friend of yours?” “‘Well, he’d like to be.”” Her glance went to a table across the room. “He’s a pretty good-looker, all right!” Nick Ramsay’s eyes followed the direc- tion of her glance with seeming indiffer- ence. Duke Bartlett, both as to his bear- ing and attire, had that peculiar approach to conventionality which in the Southwest ‘marks a man as a professional gambler. Yet that he was even more of an outlaw than a gambler might well be surmised. He was tall and lean, and every line of body and face showed that he was as hard as iron. This hardness threw into relief, rather than diminished, the attraction of his handsome, although evil-looking face. His cheeks had a ruddiness. that no tan of the Texas sun could obscure, and his teeth showing often in a mirthless smile, ‘were very white. Certain features lessened one’s first im- pression of his good looks. His eyes were a pale blue and had a bleak look that read- ily became a sardonic and forbidding glare. Adventure His dark hair, although his age could not have exceeded thirty years, was streaked with gray. A decided touch of the bizarre was given to his face by the straw-colored mustache that divided long thin nose: from long thin lip. At the moment Nick Ramsay glanced toward him, Duke and his chief ally, Cac- tus Kimball, were chatting boisterously with two of the dance-hall girls. From the latter rose shrill laughter. The negro ‘orchestra—piano, cornet, and three accordions—stationed on a platform. at the end of the room, at that moment struck up a maddening one-step. Duke Bartlett and his painted companion rose and swung into the dance. As they swept past Nick the latter could feel the tall gam- bler’s eye fixed keenly upon him. He turned his impassive face toward Kitty Courtney. | “Do you know anything about this man, Duke Bartlett?” he asked. “T know he’s a gunman,” she said. “He’s a man-killer! They say that over in Arizona there wasn’t a town marshal would dare face him. It took the Rangers to run him out of Arizona, and he got a couple of them while. they were doing it. That’s what Utah says, and I reckon he knows if anybody does. .Yes, and here in Sandy Flat, Duke has got his man once since I’ve been here. You'd better watch out for yourself, little boy, if he’s after you at all.” ‘Sounds like he was real bad,’’ comment- ed Nick carelessly. “Oh, he’s bad, all right,” returned Kitty. ‘But he likes me!”’ She leaned toward him until her tawny-red hair almost brushed his face. “Look here, Nick! Why don’t you like me?” “T do like you,” he said gently. “TI like you a whole lot. Yes, a lot more than may- be you’d believe!” Although she had demanded an answer, yet its tenor seemed rather to take the girl aback. “Q-oh!” she said with plaintiveness, ‘You do like me! Well, if you do, why don’t you ever dance with me? I’ve asked you—twice—if you didn’t want to dance with me, but you got out of it some way or other both times. And I’ve looked at you I don’t know how many times. I reckon you know I don’t have to ask people to dance with me!” She turned her head to gaze a moment MIGDOOkKS (©) (E©@)