Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 110: what you’re looking at

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

100 his lips was a copy of the derisive smile which had been there some days before, when he had stood between the two cotton- wood trees near the Ballantine ranch house, quirt in hand, striking idly at the bole of one of the trees. CHAPTER XXI. THREAT AND SILENT MENACE. OPEN AMERON’S face paled a little from resentment. This was the second time he had caught Gibson watching him, and each time Gibson had smiled in such a manner that ‘she gave the impres- sion that he had caught Cameron doing something stealthy, clandestine, or willfully malicious. Cameron had meant to ask Miss Fargo some questions about Ben Baxter, but instead he walked to the door and con- fronted Gibson. Gibson still stood, his arms folded over his chest, a shoulder against one of the jambs of the door. He did not change position as Cameron stopped in front of him and looked at him. “ Gibson,” said Cameron, ‘“‘ you have an annoying habit of appearing at the most inopportune times.” ‘“T’ve noticed that,’ Gibson replied. He drawled his words; they did not come from his lips with the spontaneity which had marked his speech upon the occasion of his other visit. The genial, quizzical gléam was absent from his eyes; no suspicion of the old, odd smile was on his lips. His gaze was level and cold, his lips tight pressed; his manner was marked by a sinister delib- eration. “Gibson,” Cameron continued, “ it seems to me that there is danger of your misapprehending the significance of some things you have seen.” “Not a bit of danger,” answered Gib- son. ‘ Mebbe you don’t know it, but I’m able to think things out pretty straight. I ain’t got nothin’ ag’in’ you, personally, but I’ve been talkin’ with the boys, an’ we’ve come to the conclusion that this section of the country can get along mighty fine with- out you! “T reckon mebbe you don’t know it, but ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. there’s twenty men in the T Down outfit that have got a soft spot somewhere inside of them for Sunset. They ain’t never made much noise about it, an’ mebbe old Sunset never knowed about it. But the boys are pretty well stirred up. “It seems to them that even if Sunset did warn you about runnin’ your railroad past his place, you hadn’t ought to have plugged him that way. You’re a young man, an’ Sunset is pretty near as old as he can get, accordin’ to the years that have been doled out. ‘* Sunset’s somethin’ over seventy. Sun- set never done any man any harm which didn’t try first to harm him.” Gibson stood for an instant, watching Cameron, who had bowed his head, feeling as he had felt every minute since the shoot- ing, strangely guilty and ashamed. It is possible that Gibson understood Cameron’s feelings, for his hard gaze soft- ened a little and one hand came up and meditatively caressed his chin. Then he moved into the doorway, stepped one step down the stairs, and looked back. This time there was a more subdued note in his voice. “That seems to be all, Cameron,” he said. ‘‘ The boys are dead set on havin’ you do your work somewhere else. They think this country can get along without you. They’ve give you a week. That ought to be time enough for you to get somebody here to take your place.” Before Cameron could open his lips to speak, Gibson had swung into the saddle and was riding away... He did not look back. Cameron stood, looking after Gibson. He knew how Gibson felt; he knew how all the men of the T Down felt. He was aware that it is one of the contradictions of hu- man nature that a man does not become an object of veneration until he is shattered. Gibson, the T Down men, most of the people of Ransome, and all Ballantine’s friends near or far, would now idealize Sun- set; they would place him upon the pedestal their fancy would erect for him. And Cameron knew the man deserved to be so worshipped. He knew that from consulting his own feelings. Ballantine had woven a spell around him; and he knew, Gomicsookssco