Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 36: what you’re looking at

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

826 bore signs of stress and weariness. He sat now with his head under his wing, the per- sonification of despair and gloom. Occa- sionally he would straighten up, cast a glow- ing eye around and emit a doleful: ‘ Dark-o’-de-moon—sho’ly—sho’ly.” This performance always brought a loud appreciative laugh from the woman on the front seat. She was a kindly, highly good- humored woman of massive proportions. Her cheeks were bright and her hair a deep mahogany shade. She chatted vivaciously with Bill Gerrish, the driver, who called her ‘Princess ”’ in a tone of respectful admira- tion. She turned to Lynnie and said: “ What ’Il you take for the bird? Id like to buy him,” handing her a card at the same time. It read: THE PALACE OF OCCULT SCIENCE PRINCESS AIMEE ARDELLE She Will Tell Your Past, Present and Future . $2.00 Your Life Psychoed Mines Located, $2.00 Lynnie gazed at the psychic with new in- terest. “Will you sell him?” repeated the prin- cess. “I’ve a feeling he’d bring me luck.” ‘“ Graveyard luck!” snorted Aunt Jury. “Sell him, Miss Lynnie. ’At bird gwine scandalize us yit. Gol’ mine folks ain’t used to his thievin’ ways—”’ “T love him dearly, princess,” said Lyn- nie in her deep, soft voice. “ I couldn't sell him.” The woman on the back seat talking to her husband unconsciously lowered her own voice at the sound of Lynnie’s. She was a short, stout woman, heavily corseted. Her round blue eyes were hard and sharp and shining. Her black hair was marceled and shining. Her pointed finger nails were pink and shining. Her clothes were expensive and shining new. She gave out the impres- sion of hard shining surfaces, and cold, high lights. She and the man beside her gazed at Lynnie curiously. Bill Gerrish had stopped in a stretch of heavy sand to tinker with the engine. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. The Princess Aimee Ardelle turning around, picked up the Prophet’s cage, hold- ing it on the back of the seat. The bird straightened up, eying her expectantly. ‘Let me teach him a few words,” said the princess brightly. “ Listen, Prophet! Say this: “T knew her in Nome!” She flashed a glance of amused malicious- ness toward the woman on the back seat, and received in turn a look of hauteur. This by no means disconcerted the Prin- cess Aimee Ardelle. ““T knew her in Nome, Prophet. Can’t you say that?” she repeated, coaxingly. Bill Gerrish started his engine with a frightful roar. The long, hot, dusty jour- ney was on again. At Indian Spring, where they had stopped for luncheon, the princess called Lynnie’s attention to the back seat passenger, who stood in deep conversation with Aunt Jury. “She’s trying to coax your help away from you,” observed the princess in a husky undertone. “ It’s the first thing some folks do ‘when they make a stake.” Lynnie smiled. ‘‘ Who is she? any one of importance?” “Her? She’s the wife of Dudley Ricketts—and he’s considered the slickest corporation lawyer in Nevada. She mar- ried him up North,” the narrator went on with relish, ‘one time when he was sick and she a-nursin’ him. When he gits too weak to raise a finger, she calls in a jestice of the peace. And when he comes to, pore Dud Ricketts was tied up for life! She’s tryin’ to be a queen o’ society now—and the camp really needs good arm waitresses—” Aunt Jury came over to them. She wore a new air of pride and happiness. The tall Joshua trees that had dotted the desert during the first of the journey had now diminished in size, and finally they came to a land where all the cactus was dwarfed, and no green thing lived except sagebrush and greasewood. Mountains rose bare and gaunt. They traveled through a deep wash of shale. They came at last in sight of Sylvanite, a little camp of tents and cabins scattered along three streets at the foot of Big Boy Mountain. Is she GOMIGdoOokszco