Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 120: what you’re looking at

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

754 “Now, such talk is foolishness,” Pud- dlewhit gently expostulated, smiling at her fears. ‘I marked the vengeance in his eyes,” she returned, shuddering. A brave smile lit her lips. ‘‘ But my child will be safe. The rajah risked his life for the boy’s once, he cannot take now that which he has given. As for me, it matters not. I am growing old, and the sands of my life are running low. What matters a few hours more or less? I have drunk to the full of the misery of this world. One thing I would ask thee, my friend. When I am gone, take the boy with thee to the home of his uncle, Wu Chow, dealer in toko-artikelen at the pasar of Keumala. You will do this for me?” ‘““Wu Chowe” Puddlewhit exclaimed in surprise. ‘“‘ That is my sister-in-law’s second husband,” The lady from Macassar smiled. ‘“ Fate spins queer threads for us,” she observed musically. ‘‘ We walk blindly and by and by the paths from far quarters meet. Since thou knowest Wu Chow, this will not be a burden to thee, will it” she inquired anx- iously. Puddlewhit leaned back and_ looked around before replying. They were quite alone. The others had gone into the open after their meal, like fowls sunning them- selves. A dim, cathedral light poured in through the interstices between the bamboo, filling the long nave. Pigs grunted in the well filled wallows below and_ poultry scratched industriously along the runways created by the rain. ‘“Of course,” he returned reassuringly, ‘“T shall do as you request, if it be neces- sary. But I know it will not. You yourself will bring the boy to his uncle. Teema is not the sort of man you believe him to be. He is young, yes, but not cruel. And he will listen to me—” She placed a protesting hand on his arm. It was the first time she had been so familiar. “Listen, my friend,” she said. ‘It is you who do not understand. You do not know the hot blood that flows in the veins of the peranakan tjina. Yellow and white, mix them and they are fuel and flame, con- suming yet never consumed. You do not ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Know the gulf that exists between the yellow man and him whose blood is roiled. ‘You are proud of your races and royal- ties, you whites, but what are you? Chil- dren of a day, your oldest dynasties reach- ing back only a few hundred years. Long before your America was, we were; long be- fore your Europe was, we were. Civiliza- tion was old, like a man grown gray, in China when your ancestors still lived in trees, like these Battahs, or scrabbled in caves. Do you wonder that we are proud of our blood? Do you wonder that we hold in scorn and contempt him in whom it is defiled? Do you wonder that to us the peranakan tjina is as the leper and the pariah, a creature unutterably loathsome, with whom contact is defilement? Hated thus, is it strange that they return the hate with a virulence as great as our own? Speak with the young man, he will tell you—” She wrung her hands. Lines of anguish seared her proud face, shame and pain con- tending. ‘““T know whereof I speak, my friend,” she cried bitterly. ‘I committed the un- forgivable sin of my people once. I had a white husband—a child. That was long ago. Death took them both, blessed re- lease for my babe. He disappeared, later they told me the great sea had swallowed him. It is well. Else the suffering that is this sorry king’s might be his. Let him ease his wrath on me. Let him have his hour of hate satisfied and lust for vengeance appeased.” She sighed resignedly. Puddlewhit glanced at her thoughtfully and stroked his chin. “You had a child by a white husband once?” he asked. “Yes,” she acknowledged in a whisper. “If he be as you say, you have given me the golden key that will unlock his stub- born heart,’”? Puddlewhit declared with re- lief and conviction. ‘‘ Have faith, you shall live with your child.” The door opened and a Battah shambled in. After him came another, a long pro- cession of Battahs. The hour of Teema’s justice had arrived. One by one the male members of the tribe filed in, all of them armed to the teeth, and took their places O Commicoooks (S@)