Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 11, 1925 — page 155: what you’re looking at

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

PETERSON PRIDE. the planking above the dam, not waiting for the iron bridge. Over in town gay gasoline flares already lighted the bowery. Lafe Beaty was scrap- ing his famous fiddle in impatient anticipa- tion. A flat-chested parlor organ, carried ~ down from the Methodist mission house, emitted unharmonious gasps. Minna Peterson stopped in the sand by Ernie Jaynes’s fish shanty and clenched her hands with a disappointment that was al- most childish. They should go anyway to that dance, Robin, and she! She would -forget Nels Nielson! A pair of men strode toward her from the river dock. Minna edged backward behind a net reel. She was embarrassed to be found here by the harbor hunting Robin. She looked down at the finery of her new white dress, conscious of its ab- surdity, conscious of the obstinacy of gossip and the fragility of pride. “ Nielson only just got started,” Casper Clause was saying. “I’m glad it’s not me haulin’ a pack of young ’uns over to Ot- towa Island in the dark.” “Nels don’t worry. Not the worryin’ kind. Steady, but no fuss.” This was Walt Cook. ‘ How’s Peterson?” “ That drunk hog! Ought to get drowned, his own good and hers. She’s a uppish gal, never lets on—” They passed out of hearing. Minna Peterson drew a deep breath. All the soft- ness of womanhood drained out of her soul, in a single and horrid minute, all that was left of a great faith, all her comfort and content. “That drunk hog!” She leaned against Ernie Jaynes’s shanty, weak with misery. A gritty, bitter taste filled her mouth. She was surprised to feel tears. She wiped her cheeks, determined to be rid of womanish infirmity. A drop of rain fell on her hand. Lightning flashed a menace in the northwest and the first mes- senger of a summer wind drove across the dunes. Nels’s little blow was coming, all right. No doubt about that. Minna stopped at Robin’s door and felt for the padlock. It gaped open its jaws, gossiping to the world of her sodden, un- repentant husband inside. > tell zee a =. = “ a . ” ee me — . ~ a = lic - —— Dn eo IE ee 0 a a I Te ‘ <> ee tip a et Qe ee Cl. ee OT ee ne AE ee eg ee ee ee Te pe ee ee eee ee ee ae gee ei ee eS ge en ew 309 A light burned from the ceiling, a sulky, smoky lamp with the chimney uncleaned; she could see that much through the crack. Should she face him now? Or was she too much ashamed? Indecision triumphed. Along the insecure planking of the wharf she felt her way toward the fresher air of the wash. There was a stanch and sym- pathetic companionship in the unfettered water. It would rain hard in a minute. Already lightning splintered out of the north and uneasy catsqualls disturbed the lake. Near Minna’s feet a startled gull rose screaming from the old ———, an unseen, cackling omen. The rain came down, with the fresh fury of a summer storm. Minna winced when its cold, wet sheets first washed her hot face. But she did not move. She could see the small white light of Nels Nielson’s mail boat far out on the lake, with its cargo of children for Ottawa Island. marry her! In the shanty behind lay Robin Peterson, dissolute, disgraced, her husband. And to-night she had thought they would go to a dance! She had come in a white dress searching for him. How the town must laugh at her high-headed pride! The wind whined and whipped at her skirt. Nels Nielson’s boat still swam in the dark off shore. It looked to be drifting to Minna, swinging south and no further -away. She saw dully its bloodshot port light, now its starboard green. The boat certainly was drifting. A flash toward the heavens roused her. What could Nels Nielson be doing, light- ing so-great a lamp? She forgot her own disgrace for a moment. With fascinated eyes she watched the lake. The port side light still shone red. But above it, over- whelming—that couldn’t be a lamp! It was fire! Nels’s mail boat afire with ten children! Her wet finery tripped her as she ran back toward the boathouse. She flung open the door. Upon the nets lay her hus- band snoring. She fell on her knees be- side him. “ Robin! Robin, I say!” She siniteaiian his chest, slapped desperately at his face. — Nels Nielson, who had wanted to « comicbooks.