Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 107: what you’re looking at

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

THE WAY OF you than—than it does to me and my un- cle, or anybody in this section of the coun- try. “J don’t know that I blame you for it, because you’ve been brought up that way, and I suppose you don’t know the differ- ence. But that is why I can never feel toward you as you seem to thing I ought to feel. That is why we can never be any- thing more than just enemies.” Virginia stood there, again gazing down- ward. Cameron stepped cicse to her and placed his hands gently on her shoulders. He felt her stiffen, but she did not resist, although she raised her head and gazed unwaveringly into his eyes. “Virginia,” he said, ‘ you are a wonder- ful girl! And your uncle is a wonderful man! I think, though, that of the two, you are the braver. Your uncle did not flinch under my bullet, and you do not flinch when, m order te be Joyal to him, you deliberately tell me things you do not feel.”’ She tried to keep her gaze steady, failed, and again looked downward. ‘““} have told you the truth, Mr. Cam- eron,”’ she asserted slowly. “ Virginia,” he said, “over on a cer- tain ledge one day you told me that you never pretended. i knew then that you couldn’t. I know it now. You tell me that I would ride over any obstacle. And yet, Virginia, what would you have thought of me if I had not driven the engine to- day?” ‘JT would have thought you a coward,” she replied lowly. “ And what would you think of me if I ran away from here and gave up the woman I love?” he asked. “T would think—” she said, and paused, to look into his eyes again. “1 would think you a coward,” she answered stead- ily. And then again, as befere, a marvelous color stole up her throat and into her cheeks, and her lashes drooped and lay lightly against the scarlet cheeks. Cameron backed away from her and spoke gently as he reached the edge of the porch. 7A THE BUFFALO. 97 “Virginia,” he said, ““I am not going te run away from you.” He stepped to the ground at the edge of the porch. He saw Virginia looking into the little level between the porch and the corral fence, where two big cottonwood trees spread their heavy branches flatly out- ward. Cameron followed her gaze, to see Joe Gibson standing between the trees. Gib- son’s back was toward the porch, and he was idly striking the bole of one of the trees with a short handled, long thonged leather quirt which was gripped in his right hand. Gibson had evidently approached the porch without seeing Virginia and Cam- eron. And then, scorning to retreat, he had turned his back and was striking the bole of the tree with the quirt to attract their attention. He turned now, at Cameron’s greeting, and looked at him. The incipient friendli- ness which had characterized his manner toward Cameron on the day he had seen the latter whip Kensington was no longer in his eyes. They were cold, derisive. He stood steadily regarding Cameron. And then, as if having seen what he wanted to see, he deliberately turned his back and began again to strike the bole of the tree with the quirt. Cameron flushed, but said nothing. He looked at Virginia, who was now standing near the screen door, her face aflame. And then, as Cameron stood, watching Virginia, she raised her head, defiantly, it seemed to Cameron, and spoke to Gibson. “Gibson,” she said evenly, “did you find him?” ‘“ Qver beyond the second hill,” Gibson replied. “‘ He’ll be here in half an hour.” This conversation seemed to exclude Cameron. He waiked to the gate, trying to solve the riddle of Gibson’s manner. It was because of his shooting ef Ballantine, he supposed. He had liked Gibson; still liked him. And he had had hopes of mak- ing a friend of the man. But he knew now that Gibson would never be his friend. A steady hostility had glinted in Gibson’s eyes. And Cameron felt that, because of what oO Eomichboo eS (S@)