Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 28, 1928 — page 61: what you’re looking at

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

ROPE NECKTIES. “*Xcuse me,” he pipes pleasantly. “TI has to go into old man Renwood’s office and look up a matter of impor- tance.” “ Shore,” drawls Shorty. “ We're plumb accustomed to our own pore company.” As Leary passes indoors, Mary comes out looking like a rainbow after the storm. She has changed her riding habit, and is wearing a flowered dress, blue with white flowers on it, and looks more purty than ever to my eyes. | don’t blame Boss Deveture none; I’d reach out my hands for her with half an opportunity. Beckoning, I drew her a few paces away from the door. “ Quick, Mary—can you trust the cook?” I queries. “Of course—why, she’s my old nurse, Carrie. Why do you ask?” “ Well, tell her to clean up dinner *fore any one returns, and both of you remembers one thing: neither she nor you has seen hide or hair of Leary to-day. Haven’t seen him at all—get me, Mary?” She looked bewildered. “T’m going to fight your battles, lit- tle lady,” I said quickly, “ but you must do as I say.” The girl repeated wonderingly: “ Neither Carrie nor Psaw Mr. Leary to-day. When you boys brought me back to the ranch there was no one here except the cook.” “ Dead perfect, Mary, and a lot may depend on it. You trust me, don’t your” I looked deep into her brown eyes, and hers dropped first, but honesty and sincerity were written there for me to see. “ Ves, Harry, I do trust you; I must have some one in whom [| may place confidence, or I’ll go mad. You can’t imagine how alone I have been.” — The deep tone of her voice thrilled me, yet what was there for me to say to comfort her? A491 Indeed, with such an unnacheral father, as I knew Renwood to be, ready to dispose of his own flesh and blood to the highest bidder, I could see how alone this flower of a girl was among this gang of ruthless he-wolves. As we turned back to the bench, Shorty jumped up and, with the crown of his Stetson, dusted off a place for Mary to sit down. And bowed gal- lant like; I didn’t know it was in him. “No, thanks,” said Mary, “ since Carrie has set the table in the dining room, I expect the bell any moment. You'll eat at the family table to-night, boys—not in the cow-punchers’ chuck quarters.” Shorty murmured under his breath, and made a hurried plunge toward the pump. I followed him. As special company the thought of washing up for the occasion had occurred to him after all, and to me, too. He was wip- ing his hands offen his pants and mak- ing ’em four shades lighter when I joins him. “On the way to town I’m going to spring a few things on Mr. Leary,” I informs him. “You have my permission,” Shorty replies, indifferent. “All right, kid, you watch my smoke.” Truth to tell, I was blazing and trembling inside, for the time I had waited for so long was a coming. A. cow bell rings the call to fodder, and we tries to wipe our faces on our sleeves and look like company. ‘The table was set in the family dining room, tablecloth and_ everything. Shorty and me is both a bit self-con- scious, and I kicks him under the table several times when he shows an incli- nation to bend over and kiss his food. ’Course all of us men is two-handed knife and fork workers, but that’s to be expected. Mary Renwood, she eats delicate, and I glances at her furtive once in awhile. The cook, an old lady wrinkled and tough, has nothing to say, just shoves CORMICLOOKS (C@