Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 4, 1925 — page 133: what you’re looking at

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

SENOR JINGLE BELLS. Knife work? It would have taken a lightning flash to overtake him. Hugh Nichols had ridden thoroughbreds in many a hunting field and, therefore, he was no poor judge of speed. That horse beneath him had ample foot to account for itself in any other than racing company, but al- though Nichols overhauled the sheriff, they had not a chance. The sharp whistle of the fugitive came again. Then out of the dark to one side flashed another horse, saddled, but with- out a rider. It shot past El Cantor—not past him, indeed, for as it flew along, it checked its stride ever so slightly and be- hold, he was up on the back of the red- bay stallion—red-bay that shone like blood as it shot through the flare of light that rolled out through an open front doorway. Then away he went, as a bird flies out from the tree, so went Monsieur le Duc away from his pursuers. They lost sight of him around the shoul- der of the first hill beyond the town. When they reached that point, he was nowhere to be seen and they pushed ahead, curs- ing and raging through the crowded hilltops. But El Cantor had turned and was rid- ing fast back to the town. He cast a half circle around it and found it alive with noise and confusion. Every one was up. Every one was dressed or half dressed. Swinging lanterns shone here and there. The windows were lighted. And now and then hoofbeats rattled away down the street as some other recruit for the posse, having caught, saddled and mounted his favorite horse, fled away through the night hoping against hope that he might come up with the others in time to see the finale of that wild night’s work. El Cantor left monszeur in a cluster of trees and remained there a moment with him, rubbing the velvet muzzle of the stal- lion with the palm of his hand, and laugh- ing softly at the hubbub they had raised. After a moment he went on toward the town, twisted between two outlving houses, and so came straight behind the home of Senor Alvarez. The garden was full of people. He lay flat on the cool ground near the gate and listened. What a torrent of chatter! 923 “ It was all because he would marry Mar- garet Swain.” ‘But he didn’t.” “It was a trick then.” ‘Think of risking one’s neck for the sake of such a thing.” ‘“ Perhaps it was all to have the pleasure of refusing her!” Thus ran those soft voices in Spanish. FE] Cantor listened and smiled solemnly to himself. And when the rattling died down a little, he glided through the gate and waited in the shadow until there was a chance to see the girl alone. The other women had heard some vague tale from the Street and were hurrying to learn the truth about it. Then Alvarez himself hurried into the house. And FE] Cantor, like a glid- ing wolf, was through the maze of bushes. He came straight up before her and bowed. ‘“ Senorita,” said he, “I could not leave before I had seen you again!”’ ‘“Ah, God help me, it is he!” cried the girl, She ran to him and caught him by the shoulders. She shook him, or tried to shake him. “Tell me! Tell me! You did zot marry her!” ‘‘ JT did not,” said he. ‘“* Mercy of Heaven—what have I done?” ‘Nothing. It is nothing.’’ ‘‘ Ah, my dear! Can you forgive?” “Such a little thing?” ‘They might have murdered vou!” ‘“ Murder? It is my profession to have my neck in danger. It is nothing. But what did they do with you?” ‘They told me—about Senorita Swain. I could not stand it, dear; and—and—I made Mateo tell them everything.” “Tt is he, then?” said El Cantor. He removed her hands and held her away from him with a sudden sternness. ‘It is Mateo who gave them what they wish to know?” ‘“‘Yes—no! Oh, God, what do you in- tend to do? You have not forgiven me— you have not forgiven me!” ‘* Mv dear,” he announced, and his teeth gleamed behind a mirthless smile, ‘I al- ways forgive a lady, no matter what she may have done. But Mateo—” , CO GIOok