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.

744 vated a trifle. He was a white man, the gods be praised. A. Puddlewhit himself had said it. ““T am a king, the son of a king,” he returned with hauteur. “That is true,” Puddlewhit agreed amiably. ‘ But has not a wise one said that humility is the measure of a king?” “That is Christman talk,’ Teema re- turned impatiently. “And the teaching of the Bhagavat,” Puddlewhit corrected. ‘‘ What is the Creed? ‘ Better than sacrifice is liberality, better than liberality is faith, better than faith is kindness.’ ” Teema stared sullenly seaward without replying. Puddlewhit’s eyes narrowed. He gazed somberly at the green, mangrove- lined coast that slowly unwound itself a mile of blue water distant. “He is a half-blood,’ he murmured to himself. ‘‘ He will be hard to control.” “Teema,” he asked in sudden inspira- tion, ‘‘ tell me about your mother.” The young man drew back sharply, his keen, black eyes sharply questioning. Sul- len suspicion was in them, and a kindling of angry passion. “Why?” he demanded harshly. ‘“‘ Because I want to see her through your eyes,’ A. Puddlewhit returned gently. ‘‘Then, perhaps, I shall understand you _ better.” Teema looked away. Lines of pain gath- ered in his face. He was powerfully emo- tional—it was the Celtic strain in him, per- haps. Presently he took an object from a little pouch hanging next to his breast and held it in the palm of his hand. It was a battered silver crucifix. “ That is all I have of her,” he said bro- kenly. “And of my father, too. The Christman gave it to them the day they were wed. Many times men have taken it from me, when I was a child, sailing from place to place on ships under every flag, but I told them it was a charm that brought evil to all who bore it. So they let me have it again, with curses. When I look at it I see my mother, as she stood under the palms the day I fled—” His voice broke. ~ “ Describe her to me, Teema,” Puddle- whit said softly. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. The young man brushed the offending moisture from his eyes. “She was a lotus blossom,” he returned with passionate fervor—‘ the fairest bloom of a mandarin’s garden, fragrant as a hedgerow of tea vine in flower, beautiful as a moonstone. But my white blood called me, and I went. I was only a child then. It was best, for I was a burden to her. Thou dost not understand—” He turned away to hide a tear. A. Pud- dlewhit’s face puckered in a puzzled frown. “What is it, Teema, that I do not un- derstand?” he asked. “Let me be a white man henceforth,” Teema replied harshly. ‘ Speak no more of my yellow blood or her who gave it me.” He rose abruptly and hurried away. The next morning A. Puddlewhit saw the lady from Macassar again. She wel- comed him* warmly, almost cordially... As they conversed, her reserve gradually melt- ed under the sun of his genial good humor, and she became less reticent. She told him of her late husband’s brother, keeper of a toko shop in Keumala, who would give her asylum, she hoped. Concerning her own family she said nothing. Puddlewhit guessed an unfortunate girlhood marriage and disinheritance. Such things happen in China as well as in America, he reflected. While they talked the boy spun a top. The mother’s watchful regard gradually lessened. Perceiving his opportunity, the youngster edged away, gravitating through the crowd to the rail. Unmolested, he clambered up to get a nearer view of the fascinating roll of the sea. It might have been a lurch of the ship, or again it might have been his mother’s frightened cry as she perceived his peril that caused him to lose his equilibrium. Arms outstretched, he plunged face down into the smooth, green rollers, his scream of dismay strangled by the waters. The mother ran to the rail. Puddlewhit per- ceived her intent to throw herself after the child, and sped after her, catching her as she was about to swing over. She struggled fiercely clawing his face like a cat, mother love rendering her for ‘the moment insane with frenzy. A white flash from the upper deck shot CoOmmicooolks (S@) 5}