Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 116: what you’re looking at

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

yr Sos, OT Ny “ - ms iS : “ By HAROLD DE POLO land when Raoul Armagnac passed on to the beyond. The old French fur trader, for all his quite inordinate pride, had been a deeply beloved person. Al- though his sense of justiee had occasionally been almost too stern, so, likewise, had his generosity in helping those in trouble been almost too great. On the whole, there was unanimous sadness on the trails, at the posts, in the far settlements, when word/first arrived of his death. A good man, it was agreed, had left the world. Men began to speculate after the first shock of the news as to what would became of the Armagnac post at the headwaters of Lac Morte. For thirty—yes, for thirty- four years—the wiry, slim, little Frenchman had carried on his business at this desolate station close to the fur section. He had handled his affairs alone—and this meant, as well, without even a single [om was many a sigh ia the north- Indian or half-breed for the daily chores— ever since the death of his wife close to thirty years before. Coldly, with that queer pride that had somehow strangely com- manded attention, he had refused all offers of companionship when they had been sug- gested. Yes; an odd one had been M. Armagnac. A pity that it had not been a boy, in- stead of a girl, that child that had been the death of the mother at birth. They remembered her but slightly—Gervaise Armagnac—although they had heard of her much. She was, indeed, the one thing of which the trader had been: willing to speak at any length.- Did you but press your hinting, sufficiently, he had always been ready, these last few years, to tell you of her triumphs on the concert stages of Eu- rope, and to show you pictures and clip- pings. That, people said, was where practically 586 COLA iGbooksSneom