Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 123, No. 3 — page 116: what you’re looking at

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thoughts. But into his mtimate personal life only the elect could enter. Yet now the padre had planted a new thought, and such thoughts grow quickly. For the poor padre had suggested that he, Tyson, had an influence over the girl, that she was interested, intensely; and ‘Fyson. felt suddenly the thrill of passession. Not that his thoughts went far. Of mar- riage he would as soon have thought as of leprosy; not even the thought of any affair with the girl was firmly implanted in his mind. All Tyson knew, as he swung down. the valley, was that an adventure lay before bim, and he was prepered to taste the full zest of it—and retain his hanor. A gentte- man’s honor; who has. ever stopped to consider what its whitest portions are, and where pride begins and honor leaves off? He was bearing straight fer the sound of the whistling. Apparently it lay directly ahead of him down the river-path, but now the sound came to a sharp period. In a moment he passed the point where she should have been, aceording to the loudness of fhe whistling an instant before. : But the ‘ path was empty both ways, and the ‘hush of the evening lay heavily around him. There was not a trace of Rona Carnahan. “The devil fly away with her,” said Tyson anprity, and he turned his back, somewhat sulenly, upon all thought of the girt. Yet he had hardty made a pace when a voice behind him said: “Senor Tyson, if I were a man, I should horsewhip you for thrat!’’ He turned with an exclamation, and found her leaning against a tree, the tree which had concealed*her. Her senses meust have been of hair-trigger sensitiveness to have warned her of his coming im time for her to hide. She was dressed like an In- dian, in a garb of freedom, more masculine than feminine, in a sleeveless buckskin jacket, wide sombrero, and short skirt. Her hair hung in two long braids, one over each shoulder, with the light twisting along them like the path of a torch down a river at night. | “You passed so close,” she said, “ that I could have stelen your hat.” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, “Why did you hide?” “T inew you were lagking far me, Seiot r'Tyson.”’ He frowned at this complacency, “You knew?” | “T saw the necktie, sezor. | knew then that you had come to heast.” He removed his hat and rubbed. his fore- head, for he was heated by the walk. ‘““T. have busy days ahead ef me, Rona,” he said, and only a short stay on the Chi- luah, I fear. I have come to say gaod-by.” “Fhe Chilugh will miss yeu,’ answered the girl, and covered 2 luxurious yawn. “ Here’s a fallen tree for a seat,” she went on. “ Sit down amd say good-by. It is easier than standing.” She faltlewed her own advice and sat dewn on the trunk. “ Besides,” she continued, “ I want te hear about the fight.” “ What fight?” queried Tyson, and: feel- ing ill at ease standing there before- ber, he took a place at her side. “Where did you shoat him? he recover?” asked. the gick ‘““ What are you talking about?’ ““ Kennedy, ef course.” “Will he grow well again?”’ “« T see now. You think I feught him: for the necktie?” She started. “ Did you steak it?” ““T won it from him, gambling.” Her teeth shane. “ He did not fight & stroke for it?’ “ Not yet.” She braoded. ; - “ He looks like @ man,” she said, and then: “‘ You should net heve wen & frem me!’ He caught hinsself leamimg close to her, Amat wall “and recovered with a start. What he thought of then was the pale, pure face of Margaret; and then. he felt this mew sense of guilt. He held owt his hemd. “it may be long before I see you again. Good-by, Rona.” If the padre could have seen that, hew his heart would have leaped, surely. The renunciation! But she pajd no attention. “You have just left the padre?” a Eg eee ee) milo OoicsnG . (LI