Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 28, 1928 — page 67: what you’re looking at

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

SCISSORED. bd “ Mais, m’sieu’—” stuttered Pierre. “No buts about it. Ye hearn what I said, an’ ye'll go through with your end, or—” he paused significantly. “‘ As for you, Silver, I gotta sportin’ propo- sition. Since two grand, cash money, don’t tempt ye to sell the pelt, I'll fight or gamble ye for it. If I win, gimme an order on Mac and cl’ar out and stay out. If I lose, the two grand is yourn, free gratis for nothin’.” “And you clear out.” Quinn scratched his blue chin and pursed his bulbous lips. “Well, now, that’s “nother matter. My losin’ don’t figger, ’cause I don’t figger to lose. Fact is, I’ve sorta planned to marry and settle down here near my old friend Pierre. Me and him’s had a powwow, and we’ve agreed to agree. Eh, Pete?” Idona cast a hasty glance toward her father, who, with quivering chin and half raised arms, had tried to catch the big man’s eye. Now his arms dropped listlessly and he turned away. In the gesture, in Quinn’s half veiled words that reflected satisfaction and triumph, the lovers sensed the situa- tion. The girl whom Quinn hoped to marry was Idona—and Pierre, through some mysterious force that Quinn ex- ercised over him, had given his con- sent. “No, no, no,” Idona’s voice rose in vehement protest as she raced to her father’s side. “‘ Say no, papa—no!” Pierre spread his palms in an ex- pressive gesture of helplessness, and in his watery eyes lurked an inward fear as Quinn darted him a look that was pregnant with meaning. “Pierre,” cried Toon, “ye don’t mean—” But La Forge nodded dumbly, while a wolfish grin smeared Quinn’s fea- tures. A sob rasped from the girl’s throat as she clutched her father’s arms and sought his face questioningly. What she read there roused into a hot flame the fire of her aboriginal an- cestors, and when she turned to face 497 Quinn she reminded Nap of a trapped loup-cervier at bay. Slowly she crossed the puncheon floor to confront the burly Quinn, and her movements were smooth, sinuous, catlike. Her eyes were hidden points of flame and her hands surreptitiously explored the folds of her skirt, where, both her father and Nap knew, reposed a keen blade; for Idona was a product of the wild. The rose of her cheek deepened, and in her suppressed passion her rounded bosom rose and fell. To Nap Toon, to whom courage was a fetish, she was the personification of an aroused dry- ad, fighting for her love and her honor. Even Quinn could not repress an ex- clamation of admiration. “Gad,” he breathed, “‘ what a gal!” ““Yo’ beas’,” sibilated Idona, “ firs’ I would marry wit’ th’ black bear, ’fore I would marry wit’ yo’... Yo’ gros co- chon! Faugh, yo’ stink!’ The supreme contempt she threw into her words cut Quinn’s sensitive- ness like a whiplash. His code drew no fine distinctions of sex, for brute force was his god, and a thing that de-. fied him was a thing to be crushed. His gnarled fist rose menacingly. “Why, ye damned she-cat—” The sentence was never finished, Like a walking-beam, a straight arm punch, backed by a hundred and ninety pounds of muscle and sinew, landed on his cheek bone, and he toppled side- wise; he carried the deal table with him, and ’mid the splintered glass of a green-shaded lamp he crumpled to the floor. Before he could rise, Idona had glided to his side, keen blade held aloft. Through her clenched teeth she grit- ted: “I got it good mind—” “*Dona, arreté,’ shrieked Pierre. “No, ‘Dona, not that,” said Nap gently. “ Let him up.” : Her eyes burning her hatred, the girl sheathed the gleaming blade, and not until then did Quinn get to his feet. He wiped his cheek with a dingy ban- COPMICLOOOKS G (E@)