Argosy All-Story Weekly, December 4, 1926 — page 38: what you’re looking at

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

348 tered toward the bar, where he modestly as- suaged a not unnatural thirst. A few minutes later he was on the streets, mingling with the gay, light-hearted crowd that boisterously eddied here and there like a slow-surging current. Paper streamers and bright colored bits of confetti filled the air. People who thronged the streets of the border town seemed to have gone pleasure mad. Dark-eyed, dark-haired sirens elbowed one at every turn, but young Mr. Towers heeded not their importunities, or merely answered languishing glances with a wise grin. Rusty knew them for what they were —truthless birds of prey, despite their gaudy plumage, gathered from far and near as so many vultures to the feast. A little disgusted with the sordidness of it all, Rusty turned his steps away from the noise and bustle of the main street, keeping ever a wary eye out for an unex- pected attack, since the man who wandered alone among the shadows was advertising himself as candidate for a stealthy knife thrust from the shelter of any doorway. Furthermore Rusty was not blind to the fact that some stray prowler, lured by sight of his winnings at the poker table, might easily have followed, watchful for a chance at profitable murder. | But Rusty Towers, imbued with the spirit of youth and adventure, felt sublime- ly capable of taking care of himself in any emergency. On he strolled between paral- lel rows of dark houses which crowded close together upon the narrow street. Quiet though these surroundings seemed, yet an intangible something assured Rusty that adventure might be lurking around the nearest corner. The noise and confusion marking the fiesta celebration gradually grew fainter be- hind him. The street turned sharply to the left, and within a few minutes the cries of the revelers came more clearly to Rusty’s ears, evidence that he was again swinging toward the center. ‘“ Worse’n a bad lands trail, these here streets,” he muttered. Dozens of flaring lamps illumined the scene of the fiesta, and as he once more eZ drew near, Rusty found the shadows of ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. the alleyway he traversed giving place to a gloomy sort of twilight. Suddenly he perceived a few rods ahead two swiftly scurrying figures, one seeming- ly pursuing the other. Instinctively Rusty quickened his steps. The slighter figure—the one in advance— darted toward him, but in a second the pur- suer was upon it. A-scream rang forth— the frantic scream of a woman. Rusty was not deeply impressed. “Nothing but one of them dance hall lassies,” he ruminated. “Likely she grabbed some puncher’s roll, and he’s after her to get it back. A lot of rough stuff stirring here and hereabouts to-night, but it ain’t likely he’ll do more’n scare her.” Again the scream pierced the air, an agony of tortured fear behind it. Then as the woman perceived Rusty ap- proaching through the gray obscurity, she appealed to him: ‘“ Help, senor!” Rusty Towers was not so lacking in chiv- alry as his momentary indifference might cause it to appear. Actual violence toward a woman—any woman—whatever the rea- son that prompted it, was not to be tol- erated. Instantly he went into action. With startling suddenness ‘a window shut- ter was flung open, letting a stream of light flare forth. It fell across the figure of a young girl, on her knees, face toward him, arms outstretched in appeal. Behind her loomed, indistinctly seen, the menacing shape of a man. The narrow passage echoed with Rusty’s footsteps, at the sound of which the win- dow shutter was closed as abruptly as it opened. Evidently the curiosity of who- ever was within had been fully satisfied, or perhaps prudence had overcome curi- osity. A tumult of wild conjectures raced through Rusty’s brain as he lunged forward to the rescue. During the ten seconds when the window shutter remained open Rusty had been compelled to revise all his notions of the sordid little drama unfolding before him. This girl who cried out for help in the darkness—she was no dance hall girl. The glimpse he had of her told Rusty that. ECOMIEDOOKS- EO