Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 124, No. 3 — page 91: what you’re looking at

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

_THE WHISPERER. into narrow strips, ran back, and made the pack and bandage. She had studied a little of first-aid, though she had never before had occasion to make use of It. He helped her as well as he could, rolling from side to side, though the pain sent the sweat out upon his forehead. When she was finished he leaned heavily back on the pillows. ~~ His face was almost as white as the bed- ding, and the hand which lay across his breast was marvelously fragile, almost transparent. aes In a moment,” he said, “I'll be able “to go.” He opened his eyes. ‘““But you,” he said, oy don’t urder- stand—why—’”’ ‘“T don’t understand either,” she said, ‘““T don’t want to understand—TI don’t want to think—except to get you safe and well again.” | “ And you won’t turn me in—the Whis- perer? Think of the name of it? Think of the fame of it! Think of what it would mean to you!” “Do you really expect me tor” she asked. . “TI don’t know. I thought I knew—a good many things—about you—and other women—but [ guess I’ve been a fool—a great fool. Most men are—I guess—ahbout _ women.” “And I, too,” she answered. “I’ve been a great fool, but I think I’ve wane myself in time. ” _ And for the conclusion of the story we may as well take the version of Ugly Joe Gregory, as he told it many times in the saloons of Eagles, for every stranger had to hear the story of the last appearance of the Whisperer, and Ugly Joe had the only ‘authentic version. In the conclusion he always said: “No, I never seen him, but my wife heard his whisper. “And while I’m spreading on the talk I might’s well tell you something else damn near as queer as the things the Whisperer done them three days. 6A (The end.) ‘There was a dude out here—a no-ac- count damned dude we called Goggles from his funny glasses. Most of the boys around here remember him. ‘He was a sort of go-between for the Whinsperer. And he was the one, maybe, that brought all the hell to poor Tucker and the rest of ’em. He was at the house, you know. | “Well, the dude must of been pretty badly shook up by the bad way Tucker died, because the next day he come down. with a fever and stayed in bed off and on about three weeks. ‘The funny part was that this girl—this Pat I been telling you about*—zot a pile interested in the dude when he was sick. You couldn’t pry her away from his bed. Women are queer that way, but she was the queerest of the lot. “ Day and night she stuck by him like she was his sister. Wouldn’t even let Mother Martha, that knew a pile more about nursing than she ever did, help her once in a while. - “ Martha, she pretended to be pretty wise about something. but it was all Indian to me. But in the end, well, sir, the dude - went back to Eagles, and Pat went with him. And right over there in Widow Mor- gan’s boarding-house, in the front parlor down-stairs, they was married. ‘Can you beat that? You can't. bet you can’t! | “I s’pose she got so used to taking care of the poor dude that she couldn’t get along without him. That’s the way Martha ex- plamed it. Martha was that way herself at one time. “She took care of a calf that got cut bad in barb wire once, and afterward she wouldn’t never let me sell that calf or mar- ket him, but just kept him hangin’ around useless till he got to be a steer and died of old age. Yep, women are sure fools about some things. ‘* There was one funnier thing, too, that come out after Pat married that gent. It seemed that Vincent St. Gore was only part of his name. “The whole of. his name was Vincent St. Gore. Howe.”’ Tl 465’ (COLT OOOLK (CO