Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 11, 1925 — page 75: what you’re looking at

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

i" NE pins } i ; Hey \ 4 My Pt , f WN § : * “] THE INNOCENT..- <4 Oh.” Steve’s voice was irritated. “ And now we've got the whole blamed circus down here—battles, trouble, grief and everything! And I thought I was using my head!” “Well, it’s them that’s sick this time, not you!” consoled Slim. . ‘Apparently so. I'll look into this to- morrow.” “No!” pleaded Paula. “T do not intend to halt at the edge of victory!” His voice was snapped out with a quick turn of the head, so that she was again re- minded that this rural relative with the slung arm and the wrinkled blue suit was not the adolescent she had once believed. His face was thin and pale, making the eyes bluer and the lines around them darker. The quizzical expression was sub- ordinated by a latent steely glint, and though he slouched ungracefully in the big chair she sensed more strength and power than she had ever suspected in him before. He was the master, on his own ground. She found herself addressing him very respect- fully: “But, my brother, is there no way to have peace?” “Sure. Darned quick!” “ Ah, not in that spirit. Why not stop before some one is grievously hurt? Can’t there be a compromise?” Steve frowned. She looked up at the pic- ture above him, gasping at what she saw. The same pair of ruminating blue eyes stared at her sternly from the canvas! “ And I thought you an innocent!” she blurted. ‘‘ Your father’s son! But, oh, must you be hard and cruel, now that you have the victory?” “F haven’t got any victory yet. Say, what in thunder makes you plead so earnestly for these burglars? Is your memory so short?” “No; but I want peace!” She stood over the center table and gestured pleadingly. “ Sick people are irritable. I do not want more tragedy. I want to see an end to it all. What if I do sacrifice most of that stolen money? Money is not everything. _ Ah, Stephen, I am a refugee, a stranger in re —, et ~ ~ ey = a Me ee Op % ea = BP Se a strange land, away from my own environ- ment, my own vocation, my friends, my life! Perhaps it’s homesickness; call it what you will. I want peace. I implore you to be careful!” “I’m going to be careful and I’m also going to be irritable!” he assured her. But the long horseback ride with Slim — next day was less easy than it seemed. Steve’s dangling arm and weakened condi- tion made the journey so grueling that he was forced to go slowly and make Slim pitch camp in a sheltered gully that eve« ning. The howls of coyotes came to Steve’s ears. He smiled as he thought of whang- ing street cars and roaring taxicabs. The hobbled horses munched peacefully nearby. Slim snored. The little camp fire threw a cheery yellowish glare upon a near-by hill- side. White constellations of stars shone down. Steve sighed happily. “ This is home!” he murmured, going to sleep. They struck an old wagon road next morning and wound up through a region of loose dirt hills and cliffs. The road swung down through a bare cafion, but Steve and Slim urged their horses up another trail which led to the top of a brushy ridge where they would look downward, ahead, and see an enormous amphitheater with sheer rock cliffs. Steve and Slim turned to the left, riding along the ridge until they struck another edge and started downward on a winding trail which led to a small cafion. At the further end of this was a covered mine shaft and an old wooden cabin. A man stepped ee Eee rocks. Shorty came bouncing out of the shack at the head of a delegation in overalls. “We're all there!” whooped ee 3 2 “Gosh, look at that busted arm! did ya get in? How you feelin’?” Steve looked from one grinning ranch hand to another. “TI came to end this holiday!” he. : = “ Why didn’t some of you ate aa drawled. work?” “We thought nee a: us. to ” said { Sie 7 ¢ hte Vy Wrihea tie eel | wa! Ue Ss bel f ihe fon 7 Poeeds, A adhe iy Ad 5 in “ Steve!” he yelped. “ Welcome homer? ee ee ; —_ oF <x — 7. —>