Argosy All-Story Weekly, December 4, 1926 — page 56: what you’re looking at

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

uy 4 : Ae wat 366 Striving to become accustomed to this new development. “Don Enrique Mendez.” her voice came in a faint whisper, all but inaudible. “ The lad who went out to see the bright red lights at the fiesta?” Rusty demanded, his eyes narrowing. ‘“ He’s that kind, eh? Leaves his girl home while he goes out to burn up the town.” She nodded a silent answer to his in- quiring glance. “ A lot older’n you, ain’t he, Rosita?” “ He ees my father’s friend,” she whis- pered. That admission was sufficient response to the question. “Fine business!” Rusty grumbled. “Handing a young girl as sweet as you over to this ripe old Don Juan, Your dad must think a lot of you!” “ But he does, Rus-tee, my friend,” Ro- sita protested loyally. ‘‘ He loves me dear- ly. You do not understand. Weeth us eet ees often as among the people of Europe. A girl of good family does not choose her own husband. That ees all arrange by her parents. They theenk eet better so; they believe their judgment so much superior, you see.” “ But did you want to marry this gay old party, Rosita?” Rusty demanded bru- tally. .“ You don’t love him, do you?” Her. eyes now met his fearlessly. “Vou know. I do not love heem, amigo mio,” she whispered. ‘“‘ But after all eet was no different weeth me than other girls of my race. The weesh of our fathers— eet ees law weeth us.” “Listen, Rosita!” he cried tensely. “ Did you want me to come?” “Ves. amigo mio,’ she murmured, “ Every night I have prayed the good Vir- gin that you might come to me before eet was too late.” “ You trust me, Rosita? You'll go with me?” “Yes, Rus-tee. I weel go weeth you to the ends of the earth, if you weesh me to.” “For all you know, I’m nothing but a range rider. Likely this Don Enrique’s a rich man.” “T care not for that,” she cried passion- ately. ‘The good God made us for each ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. other, Rus-tee, my dear friend. Take me away weeth you.” ‘Do you really love me, Rosita?” Rusty whispered the words softly, as if awe- struck at this miracle that had come into his life. : ‘Of course I love you, Rus-tee,” Rosita smiled, a bit tremulously. ‘I could not help eet, amigo mio. You were so brave, my Rus-tee, so splendid when you save me from that evil man at the fiesta. I theenk no girl could help loving you, Rus- tee,” she added shyly, ‘“‘ You weel not let thees hateful old Don Enrique have me, weel you?” and Rosita shuddered. “ Sup- pose you had not come, Rus-tee! What- ever would have happened to your poor Rosita?” Young Mr. Rusty Towers, that case- hardened rider of the great range, felt himself in the spell of a deliriously won- . derful dream. Through the encircling shrubbery the rhythm of dance music whispered melodiously, yet to the enrap- tured cow-puncher its sound was far less captivating than the whisper of Rosita’s voice. | He was enveloped by the magic of her presence, by the sweet odor of her hair in his nostrils; held willing prisoner by soft round arms entwined around his neck. Reverently he kissed her. ‘“T’d*call this pretty nice, eh, Rosita?” “ Ket ees heavenly, my Rus-tee. Never let me go from you again, weel you?”’ ‘Don’t you worry, Rosita,” he assured her fondly. “Ill hold you now against the world.” But unwillingly he admitted to himself that sternly practical matters demanded his immediate attention. A very real danger surrounded them. Don Eugenio had doubtless a young army of retainers at his disposal, and once he discovered the presence of this unwel- come guest at his baile things would be stirring in lively fashion. Prudence re- quired that Rusty and Rosita slip quietly and stealthily away, the sooner the better. ‘“ Listen, Rosita,” he whispered, his voice now crisp and businesslike. ‘‘ We’d best fade away, you and me. I’ve got a cayuse here, a stanch little beast that ‘ll carry Comicbooks (E@)