Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 45: what you’re looking at

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

VINGO’S LADY SERPENT. wrestler’s, and a face that I didn’t take to at all. He had one of these grayish complex- ions that so often don’t mean ill health, but are simply inherited; and a pair of hard, bright eyes, and a thin-lipped mouth that must have been all of four inches long. His jaw was a square, solid mass of beef and bone. Some way I had been expecting Alvina’s brother to be a tough customer, but Jeff Barnes wasn’t what I had been ex- pecting. I had pictured him in my mind as sort of lean and dark and steely and quick moving like her; and I couldn’t find a single item of family resemblance. But the contrast was interesting—she springy and quick like cold-drawn steel wire; he, a solid, tough mass like a drop-forging. - Alvina introduced him to old man Clay- burn and the Randolph twins and me, then told the negro to load the rations into the wagon. His name, it appeared, was Blue, on ac- count of the color of his one good eye. It’s generally what they call a high yellow negro when he has white man’s eyes, but Bad Eye, his other nickname, fitted him just as well. From the looks of the eye, his blind- ness had come on recently, and the lid was sunken, as if he had been gouged. His good eye, when he looked at Alvina, was divided between dumb worship and fear, and I wasn’t surprised to learn later that he knew what a whip felt like. Old man Clayburn was looking Alvina’s brother over. ‘Yo’ from G’o’gia?” he asked politely. Jeff Barnes jerked his head in a nod. ‘“‘ Goin’ to raise ’taters?”’ ‘““Reckon Ah’ll get settled befo’ Ah raise much of anything,” Jeff said, and from the tone of his voice I got the idea that he was one of these gruff, silent men who don’t like being questioned. I also noted that his ac- cent was much more pronounced than his sister’s, Old man Clayburn drew back into his shell, as all these backwoodsmen do when they are rebuffed, and looked at Alvina. She winked at him deliberately, and the old man fairly jumped. But he kept looking at her, and his watery old eyes had a glit- ter in them. Oh, I knew well enough what was going on. The three of them left—Alvina, Jeff, and the yaller boy—as soon as Blue, or Bad Eye, had the purchases stowed away in the wag- on. There was a general muttering of “ "Eve- nin’!”” when they went out; nothing more. Backwoods folks don’t use those empty ex- pressions which are so common in the big cities: ‘‘ Do drop in and see us some time!” “Won't you have dinner with us—some time?” No, sir. In a place like Vingo so- ciety is pretty honest and straightforward. A funeral can be the social event of the year. Imeanit. You'll see. Well, it was funny to watch the ex- pressions on. the faces of those three men — when the girl had gone out of the store, It might be poetic to say that the place seemed empty and desolate with her bright, lovely presence removed, and perhaps it did to them, but it didn’t affect me that — way. I was glad to see her go. Old man Clayburn and the Randolph twins had faced the door to say their “ ’Evenin’s ” when she had gone, and they didn’t stir for a long while. g It was a still night, hot and dry and clear. You could hear the dry axle creak- ing until the wagon crossed the railroad tracks and started down the old Kirg’s Highway toward Big Cypress, and even then they still looked out into the dark as if they were waiting—waiting for what? © I found myself all tightened up and listen- ing, too—or was I listening? That whole experience was so unreal that I find myself even now doubting some of my impressions: Anyhow, it came soon enough—faint and far off and as ghostly as moonlight in a graveyard. That whistle! The pipes of Pan! I shivered. Then, far away, I heard the yapping of the two fox terriers, and J wondered what the kill had been this time. Another snake? A young ’possum that didn’t get out of the way fast enough? A razorback? The barking of those little brutes seemed to break a spell. The three men turned from the door and all looked at me. “Don’t hanker much for that, brother,” old man Clayburn said. ‘Looks ornery,” Ed Randolph supple- mented. ‘“* Mean,” the other twin affirmed. o comichook (E) Ay Let iry