Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 115: what you’re looking at

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

BUCCANEER BLOOD. by a Raiglon woman—or any woman in the history of the world! It was a smile that any man would have died for-—but McCorkle saw that it was not bestowed upon him! it was bestowed upon that man whom McCorkle hated more than any one else in the world—the octoroon! And the octoroon was reciprocating in dumb and fearful adoration. CHAPTER XXIII. ‘‘ FIGHT FOR ME.” FLAME had been kindled—slow but consuming—a flame that would spread if not with rapidity, with cer- tainty of enveloping everything it touched. The egoistic brute man, childish and cruel, was afire with those two passions either one of which could have made him mad in his drink—the passions of love and hate. As if standing too close to that fierce heat, the octoroon, a sensual and slow- thinking man, caught fire. The girl was staring at him, her forehead blushing, her eyes shining. Astonishing, of course—but then again, why was it? Was it not pos- sible—so Parson reflected—that this girl sawesomething in him which all other wom- en had missed? She was a savage little creature, no doubt, of a savage race, kept away from all contact of men and civiliza- tion. Of the men there—Parson, McCor- makle, Wing, Dorset and that fellow in the ri- diculous pirate garb—who would be the one most likely to appeal to 2 woman of her na- ture? A man of stature and strength, a man with the swarthy complexion of those paintings on the wall; in other words— Parson himself! He had a claim upon the girl. vited it. fighting. McCorkle looked up at him. The chief was seated, gun in hand, leaning across the table. Parson was standing, not far away from the prisoner, Cameron. Yes, the flame was slow, venomous, spreading, like the blue flame which spreads across spilled alcohol. It went up into the octoroon’s peculiar slate- colored eyes. She in- He would not stand by—without 271: McCorkle saw the light there. It was a new experience to be glared at thus by a half-breed, because of the smile of a white woman. That smile under ordinary circumstances would have meant little—perhaps nothing. But in this situation it meant everything. The girl was helpless—the prey of any one of the four renegades who wanted to take the trouble to pack her off to the lugger. To old Wing this was, of course, the limit of folly. As soon as he saw the girl he knew that trouble was coming. It generally came after the loot was divided. In old days it was a mere matter of casting dice for some screaming, clawing Mexican wench, and that was all there was to it. But here ap-- parently their chief McCorkle had forgot- ten all about the business at hand which was to get Cameron out of the way, and then ransack the house. Parson also had forgotten the main issue. Both men were glaring at each other in a duel of glances, the ferocity of which that old sea-dog Wing had never seen equalled in his sixty years of piracy. Yes, McCorkle was going to shoot his henchman Parson down. There was little doubt about that. Parson himself saw it. And McCorkle knew that he saw it! That was the trouble. The hulking brute, sitting there with his ponderous greasy el- bow on the ancient linen tablecloth, and a six-gun balanced in his hand, was afraid. Parson, having been set as the particular guard over the dangerous Cameron—was Standing also with a gun in hand! “Parson, from the look in your eye, which I ain’t never seen there afore to- night, I figures you’re aimin’ for to pull off somethin’ powerful impolite.” “T reckon you ain’t callin’ me a kinky- headed swine agin, sir?” Parson said. Wing shook his head excitedly. Dorset let out a low groan as if some one had kicked him. Cameron stood with arms fold- ed, still facing death at the point of Mc- Corkle’s gun. His heart leaped within him, but no change of expression came to his face. In the moment’s silence a silvery laugh came from the throat of Jacqueline. McCorkle tensed every muscle. The laugh had cut into him like @ dagzer,