Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 18, 1928 — page 66: what you’re looking at

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

864 twilight was In the room. Dolores sat in the bed. Her long, dark tresses fell forward over her white shoulders. My breath came fast. To see the light, form, color, the blessed world, for the first time! Very slowly, gently, Dr. Weatherby un- wound the bandage. It dropped from his trembling hands to the bed. “Now, Dolores, open your eyes—just a little.” The dark lashes on her cheeks fluttered up, and closed instantly against the light. She could see! Dr. Weatherby cried: “You did see, Dolores—you did see!” Her eyes opened again, timidly, fearful- ly. But they stayed open, glorious dark eyes, luminous, eyes that were seeing! Eyes with light in them. They opened very wide. Surprised— wondering! “T see! I see!” There were no words to express her emotion. Just surprise, and awe surging into her voice, stamped on her face. “I see! Jim, is that you, Jim? Why, that’s Jim I see!” Her hand went to her eyes as though to clear a blurring vision. “ That—must be Jim. Come here, Jim. I want to see you closer.” He fell on his knees beside the bed, and her hands went to his shoulders, his face, his hair. “Jim, it is you! It looks like you! Oh, I’m so happy—so happy!” I heard a sound behind me, Lupe’s weak voice calling me from the other room. No one else heard it, or noticed me as I left the bedside. Lupe’s room was bright with daylight. No need here for cautious dimness. He lay, on his couch, a bandage over his poor muti- lated eyes. He had not been asleep; he had been listening to us outside. “Js that you, Len? I heard Dolores. She’s all right? She can see?” “ Yes, she can see, Lupe. Everything is fine.” “Tm so—glad.” He had risen weakly on one elbow. He sank back, but at once rose again. “I want to take my bandage off also. It’s light in here, isn’t it, Len?” “ Yes,” I said. : : Bright light? Daylight?” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. ec Yes.” He slowly unwound the bandage. His eyes, red-rimmed, stared at me, dark, dead eyes. Was it my fancy that they seemed expectant? ‘“Len—why—” His fumbling hands touched his eyes and found them open, ** Len—why—” His forehead wrinkled, puzzled. ‘ Len— I’m looking at you, am I?” ‘“Yes—yow’re looking at me, Lupe.” “Oh!” He breathed it like a sigh. The single syllable. It held surprise, wonder- ment, terror, and despair. ‘When do you suppose this king will see us, Len? How is Lupe?” Lupe Perez was in there now, listen; ing to Jim and me. We were going to the king, to swear allegiance. Then we would join the army—off to seek adven- ture, the danger trail, the golden argosy of fortune—the thrill of it which only youth can feel to its fullest zest. Blessed sight! But Lupe was condemned to eternal dark- ness. ** Poor Lupe,” said Jim. “ Takes a brave man to do what he did—I wish the king would see us. What did Ren say?” { understood that our audience would be at any time. Ren was to let us know. Dolores had again fallen asleep. From where Jim and I sat I could see her bed, with Dr. Weatherby sitting there beside it. Jim said: “ When we once see the king and get out of here, things will look dif- ferent—what’s the old doc doing sitting there so Jong? He acted queer to me, Len; did you see his face when he knew that Dolores was cured?” T never answered the question, We heard a sound from in there—a choking cry; and saw Dr. Weatherby with a hand clutching his throat. “Ten, what the infernal—” We rushed in. Dr. Weatherby sat look- ing at us. He had torn the collar of his robe with convulsive fingers. He stared at us. And mumbled: ‘“ Len, why—Len, why, how foolish!” His hands were groping for the sides of his chair. “Len! 1 can’t— T can’t get up!” Terror was in his eyes. “J can’t get up, Len! Why—” 4A JOOKS EOMIGEH (E(9)