Argosy, Vol. 120, No. 1 — page 109: what you’re looking at

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

THE PACE MAKER. his hand, his knees doubled, and he tumbled headlong, to fall face down at the feet of the dark-faced man who stood, sneering, _. some blue-white smoke curling upward in mocking laziness from the muzzle of his pistol. Ruth had moved with the report of the pistol; she was at Hamlin’s side when he fell, grasping one of his arms; and she went ‘down with him, to one knee, dazed from the suddenness of the thing; palsied with hor- ror, the room reeling around her. How long she knelt at her father’s side she did not know. It seemed only a second or two to her when she raised her head and looked around with dumb, agonized grief at the faces that seemed to fill the place. Then she heard Warden’s voice; he spoke to the dark-faced man who had killed her - 99 father, and his voice was vibrant with a mocking. satanic satisfaction. ‘You've wanted her, Slade—take ber!” The dark-faced man grinned at her, bes- tially. She leaped to her feet at the ex- pression of his eyes, and started to run to- ward the door. But terror shackled her feet; it seemed that some power was drag- ging at her, holding her back from the door. She had not taken more than half a dozen steps when Slade was upon her. His strength seemed to be prodigious, for despite her desperate resistance, he lifted her from the floor, crushed her to him, and started for the stairs. She screamed, beg- ging the men in the room to help her. But through the haze she saw grinning faces turned to hers; heard loud laughter and © coarse oaths. And then came oblivion. (Te be concluded NEXT WEEK.) ~ » HE prosperous: looking stranger and the affable traveling man had been conversing for two hundred miles, man-fashion, before the former began to wax confidential. The train was approach- ing a junction point, and the prosperous looking stranger started at the long shriek of the whistle. “That isn’t Fenville we’re coming to, is it?” he asked hastily. “No,” replied the traveling man. “ Fen- ville is fifty miles farther on. This is Junc- tion City.” ' “ Ah, yes.” The first man settled back and brushed a few stray cigar ashes from his solid-looking knees. His blue eyes, deep-set beneath rather heavy brows, be- came pleasantly reflective. “ It’s been some years since I was here, you see. A man’s recollection of places changes.” . The traveling man agreed. “ You used to make this territory, then?” he inquired. “ Rather. I lived in Fenville once. Born there, in fact. I—do you know anybody there?” ‘“ Most. of the business men,” assented the traveling man. “ I’ve been selling goods through here about five years.” CoOMmiiclooo @ S C@