Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 46: what you’re looking at

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

— 836 Lynnie was looking at Archer with disturbed eyes. “ She asked me if J had heard of the noble work they were doing in camp.” Lynnie hesitated. ‘‘ And when she said that she looked at me so curiously—so sort of secretly—I can hardly describe it—that I had the same feeling of cold terror I had the day that the rattlesnake sprang at you —when we were panning for gold up by the Cactus Spring—” Archer himself was disturbed. ‘ The desert has got fer! She’s unbalanced— that’s all. I loathe that woman—” “ But—but—” said Lynnie Brooke, “you like Sophy, don’t you?” “Yes, Lynnie, Ido. I do like her. She’s so darned tiny—-and—and—sort of sweet!” He held out his hand. “ Why, I could pick her up with one finger. I—I don’t know just how I feel about her.” His tone was puzzled. ‘Now, you, Lynnie—” He turned to her. ‘ Do you know why I came over to-night? It was to hear your voice! All at once it seemed to me that you and I were the only people alive on earth! The others—why, Lynnie, it just seemed to me that I Aad to see you. There’s something so warm and tender and—and—comforting in the thought of you—” She had risen and stood before him, her color flaming, like an angry young goddess. “Tm not like that,” she began in hot anger. ‘I’m not like that at all, Archer Mackenzie!” He stared—strangely moved by her love- ly indignation. “T think—I think—why, you might as well be describing Persephone!”’ He didn’t laugh at this. He stood—star- ing. ‘“Lynnie, I don’t know what I did mean. But—I must go,” he said in a strange voice. But he made no move. They stood together, two splendid fig- ures. The wind blew out the lengths of Lynnie’s scarf. He caught the ends, one in each hand. She looked up into his face. In the starlight it looked white and sharply startled. He drew the ends of the scarf taut. He was drawing her to him. She took an involuntary step. He dropped the scarf. he was gone. Without a word ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Lynnie watched him out of sight, her hand to her throat to stop its throbbing. She held up the scarf. The lace at the ends was crumpled and torn. VIII. AUNT JurRY’s morning song awakened Lynnie. She stretched her young limbs and yawned. Something had troubled her the night before—what was it? She lay for a while, her arms above her head, her fingers interlocked—thinking of Mrs. Sanders. But now her disquietude had vanished. She was only happy. Aunt Jury’s voice came to her, trium- phantly wailing: *T knows ’at de waters are chilly an’ deep, An’ I mus’ give up dis body! Oh, graveyard! O-o-0-0-0-o grave-yard !” Lynnie laughed aloud. Aunt Jury was happy, too! Johnny Jackrabbit suddenly appeared at the side porch when she was having her breakfast, and without a word handed Lyn- nie a note. It was written with an indelible pencil on paper torn from an old ledger. KIND FREND: i take my pen in hand to say iam a mitey sick man you was sech a good Doc to them too buros who drunk from the Pizen spring an so becom Pizen that i rite to say will you cum to my camp along o jonny. and Fetch some medsin. you Mite bring that Buzzard fether belongin’ to ant jewry. deer frend dont fetch enny of them camp docs fur i no them deer frend. you kood bring some of ant jewrys bone Set. god nos I aint took eny sence i was a kid and i Taste it yit but ime a Sick man deer frend. what I got is like roomatiz only not as Ketchin. vore frend and wellwisher JouNn D. TEE. John D. Teel? For a moment Lynnie was puzzled. Teel? Why, of course—it was old Uncle Gummy! Uncle Gummy had appealed to her strongest instinct. She was going through her medicine case, her brows puckered meditatively as she thought out remedies for a disease resembling rheumatism, save that it was not contagious. She had often argued with Uncle Gummy over this very CoOmmicoooks.Ec©