Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 61: what you’re looking at

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

THE FOURTH CHUM. watch while you perform. -In front of me are two trumpeter boys. They are like little roosters, with their spurs. “They talk of you, and though I must listen to know what they say, for they mur- der their own tongue, I learn that what you do is very brave. One of them is a great admirer and friend, and he says that you give him cigarettes, and that you will give him a radio soon.”’ “That must be Hector MacDonald,” said Morgan with a laugh. ‘ Yes, we're pals, Hector and I. When I first came into this man’s army I used to get hot at the way the corporals and sergeants talk to soldiers. I don’t like to be sworn at, and for a time I swore back. Then I went to clink, “ But after a time Hector took me in hand—one day he drew me aside and said, ‘See ’ere, soldier, you mustn’t mind wot any one says to you ere.’ After that I got along better. It was time—I had been in a year. They say they tame lions in the British army, and I believe it.” ‘“ What are you in your own country?” “Nothing,” said Morgan after a pause, and the bitterness settled down on him again. She looked up quickly and was si- lent for a long time. The end of the street began to lighten, and he knew that they were coming out upon Blackheath. “Was it a woman?” she asked. <¢ No.” ‘There is nothing else that can make a man so young so unhappy. I think it was a woman.” e¢ No.” “ But you are a gentleman in your own country?” “Ves, mademoiselle,” he replied after a pause. ‘‘ Some day when you tell me your trouble I will tell you mine.” “Ah,” she said. ‘ That is why I take my courage in my hand and speak to you. I know you are brave, and I think you are chivalrous. I have heard an English lady say, ‘ For bravery give me the Canadian; for beauty give me the Australian; for chiv- alry give me the American.’ It sounds like a speech, and the next moment I expect to hear her talk about the brotherhood of na- tions, but it may be true. No? Sol ‘At any rate you have save’ my life, and I have made up my mind to ask you to help me. Sir, I was a rich woman, but now I have nothing but the clothes you now see, this ring, and twenty pounds in money.” Morgan groaned inwardly and the black pall settled. After all, it was only a beg- ging game. Their stride faltered and for a few paces they walked out of step while he gazed at the ground in intense bitterness. She looked up at him and said: “ No. I do not beg from a soldier, so you shall have your cigarettes, and your tea and your buns. It is not that, and I beg of you to brighten that sad face. This other woman, I think she must have said what I have just said to make you look so unhappy. This afternoon we shall stroll on Black- heath like a soldier and his girl, and when we have stroll’ and had tea, I will tell you. ‘“ But in the meantime, sir, for the love of God, try to look happy. Otherwise you shame me.” CHAPTER VY. ON BLACKHEATH, HE heath lay before them, a big, faint- ly rolling expanse, scarred with little gravel gullies, and spotted with patches of black broom. The fine weather had brought people out, and it was dotted with strolling couples, groups of boys play- ing football, mothers and nurses with per- ambulators, and even a grown man flying a kite. The distant brick walls and the heavy green of the trees that edged it, the spire of a church hidden in one of its hollows, and the far roofs of Blackheath village gave it all a quaint and archaic air. It touched Morgan, and at sight of it the load of un- happiness that had descended upon him again, lifted. The woman at his side moved like a bird among the heavy matrons. , ‘““T love this place,” she said. ‘“ Always when I am here I expect to see a stage coach or a curricle on the roads. It is old- fashione’. It is like basque bodices. It has seen much, too, this old place. I have ConnicloOolkkS.Gonn