Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 95: what you’re looking at

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

THE DANCING DOLL. As he cautiously felt his way down the - slippery path the breath from the under- - growth filled his lungs with a warm sickly whiff of a hothouse. It was full of mysterious strange odors, perfumes of flowers that might be as poi- sonous as they were sweet; the odor of decaying leaves, and of wet moss; a strange - mingling of the scents that betokened life and death in fevered, riotous contact. Leaves and twigs brushed against his _ face, a creeper caught his leg and he could hear a snake slither away at his approach. Ferns brushed against his knees as he drew near to the bank of the stream. When he paused ankle deep in the rivu- let, there was a swift stirring in the bushes as if a wild animal had been startled at his intrusion. Without other warning, George strug- gled in the sudden embrace of two warm clinging arms and a body that clung to him as a python winds about its prey. CHAPTER XXVI. “ JUST ONE LASH!” OT lips forced themselves upon his Hi mouth and clung. George could feel the rise and fall of her bosom as the girl, absolutely invisible in that forest darkness, held him to her with all the abandon of her unchecked emotions. For a second his own young blood an- swered her, his heart beat in rhythm to her own and he was on the point of yielding. Then something, pride of race, the bal- ance of reason that civilization brings to bear against the clamor of the senses, made him resist. Or perhaps it was something more per- sonal, the thought of that other girl—a thought that made these fierce embraces appear merely bestial. With a sudden angry movement, George exerted all his strength and thrust her from him. She was hurled headlong to the ground and sprang up, a quivering passion- ate wild thing. ‘What the devil are you up to? are you?”’ ‘““VYou!—you can ask me that! After— Who 251 after wearing my flower?” Her voice came plaintive and charged with passion from the darkness. ‘* Rosita!” George felt a chill of horror at what he had escaped. He was in no less danger even now. If Manoel should find him in the forest with his sweetheart, no vengeance would be too terrible. And Manoel car- ried the only weapons on the estate. Power of life and death was his! If George had cared for the girl—if he had even been inflamed by her ardent ad- vances, he might have taken the risk of death by torture. But Rosita, with all of her physical allure, was nothing to him. And for that reason the very violence of her onslaught turned his indifference to~ loathing. “ Keep off!” he commanded in a sharp whisper. He dared not raise his voice for fear of bringing the little community down upon them in alarm. “Don’t touch me! Keep off!” She was approaching him on her knees, trying to draw him down to her. Then with a sudden return of prudence he bent low and whispered in her ear. ‘‘ Not now, my beautiful Rosita! Manoel is awake! I heard him stirring! Another time!”’ And he had fled up the trail to his hut. George slept no more that night. He lay awake, tortured by the heat, the singing in- sects and the thought of what might re- sult from this encounter. He made up his mind to escape from the plantation as soon as possible. The dan- ger of finding his way through the jungle would be great; the risks from wild animals, from poisonous snakes and insects, from hunger and exhaustion, and the pursuit of Manoel. But to stay here subject to the caprice of Rosita, who was the object of that giant savage’s affections; that meant certain death. HHe would escape from the plantation the very next night. Somehow he would secure food and perhaps a revolver. But one way or another he must escape. and q Q soon: Gomicbooksscom