Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 34: what you’re looking at

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

344 curled. She checked a half scornful smile. “Oh, no, it wasn’t the dog that brought you in here. You were afraid of that old Mexican making tortillas.”? She jumped to another question: ‘‘ Where’s your horse?” ‘““T beg your pardon, madam, but I have no horse.” ‘No horse and you’ve been in the cafion!” This definitely increased her alarm and suspicion. ‘‘ Then I guess I was right: you’re on the wing!” He had a way of smiling graciously as if pleased with every word the girl said: “You are right, I am on the wing. That explains my brutal action just a moment ago. I cannot tell you how desperately ashamed I am—taking you like that in my arms!” 3 It seemed as if she hoped he would put up some sort of defense, but he stood there, saying nothing. ‘What happened to your horse in the - first place?” she asked. ‘‘ Pardon me, I had no horse.” Then he was going to lie to her! No horse? Preposterous! Every one had a horse in that part of the country. Or per- haps, she reflected, this was one of those unfortunate men who tried to negotiate the sandy county roads with a car? He shook his head in answer to her question: “No car either. Just walked.” “VYou’re a very strange man,” she said in a tone of accusation. “ There is no doubt in my mind that you are on the wing. What do they want you for?” Her voice had softened suddenly. ‘No, of course, you won’t answer a question like that.” She thought a moment. “TI could scream. You would be taken in a jiffy— perhaps hit—that is, if you put up a fight. And yet—” It was Chilton’s turn to smile. ** At least this much is clear: {’m your prisoner.”” He seemed to say this as if a great load had been taken from his mind. She fingered the six-gun nervously, un- certainly, as if she were wondering how in the world it had come into her hand. She had pointed it at him—a fact which now Struck her as ridiculous. And then with a fine air he had returned it to her! A very strange man he was; a man who ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. frightened her; a man who numbed her will; who fascinated her. For instance, she was afraid to go to the door. She was convinced he would check her—perhaps reach out his hand and clutch her wrist again, and whirl her into his arms. But she made an effort. She felt she must get away somehow—and as quickly as possible. He anticipated her move and checked her, but in a very different way. “Can I say a word before you go?” That was a peculiar way of talking. The ranch folk never spoke that way. His speech reminded her of a sky-pilot who had taught her to speak a brand of English rarely heard in the cattle country. This stranger had a trick of modulating his voice, so that it seemed eager and tense without being louder than a whisper. Her heart leaped. The fact was she knew he could frighten her by merely a word, a gesture of the finger. She had never, to the best of her memory, been afraid of men before. Not even when her brothers brought a notorious outlaw from the cafion one time, whom they were going to hang, That outlaw had inspired her only with pity. But this man— “Yes, [ am cornered,” he confessed. Her face went pale. For a reason which she could not for the life of her have ex- plained, she put her hand to her heart. “Not only pursued, but cornered,’”’ he went on. “ There are riders coming across the plain, And four more coming down from the cafion. You see I—” He paused abruptly, catching some sort of perplexity on her face—a handsome, sun- tanned face alive with emotions. “ Are you doubting what I’m telling you?” He asked. She was Indeed shaking her head slightly —not nodding—but shaking it in denial: “You aren’t a road agent,’ she an- nounced definitely. “Tam glad you think that,” he said. ‘Perhaps you killed a man in a just fight.” ‘If you believe that much, you will probably be in sympathy with me, thinking me pursued and yet innocent.” “ Pursued and yet innocent,” she repeat- ed as if the phrase frightened her. She eoRnniclbookss (S@)