Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 5, 1921 — page 67: what you’re looking at

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

THE KNIGHT OF LONELY LAND. through the swishing grass came to them, growing less and less; the vague shape of the galloping horse with her figure an in- distinct blur against his neck passed into the shadows and she was gone. ‘By Heck!” Jack swore softly under his breath. ‘‘ What did you let them go for?” ‘“T don’t fight women,” Billie answered. “It’s the man who’s behind her that I’m after.” | He would not follow her, but he lis- tened, looking after her, until he could see and hear no more. Then he turned his face toward home once more. Jack had gone on. His shape was a dim blur a hundred yards ahead, The night grew suddenly lonely like an empty room from which a familiar presence has passed to return no more. Presently through the indistinct distance a phantom light glim- mered for a second and vanished, to ap- pear again shining steadily like a faint yellow star fallen from the sky and lodg- ing somewhere near enough to earth to send a friendly welcome out for those who were alone in the night. Tt was only the lamp in the window of the ranch house. CHAPTER NVI, * UNCLE NORMAN,” ORD passed through the valley that the Desmonds had disap- peared. Jhe Weed Patch, de- prived of its sole redeeming asset, human occupancy, became the center of desolation. The heap of tin cans before the door were scattered by a prowling coyote: the crazy roof and makeshift windows became prey of the wind that, blowing steadily in from the northeast. pried finger holds ‘where it could and rioting about the shack promised its early destruction. There was nothing alive left at the Weed Patch, not even a stray chicken; everything had gone in a night. One of the Circle O men, returning from town with a mail sack, stopped at the Three Nines and told of the flitting of the nesters. 5 A 353 ‘ First, Little Britches, she lit out, an’ now the old man he’s vamosed,” he told Billie, who came out to get the mail. * I reckon if them folks told all they know the old man wouldn’t be wanderin’ around Jooking for his two-year-olds. He’d know where tuh put his finger on ’em.” Billie could not refute the insinuation. In his heart he was sure Little Britches had not played a square game with the yanchers who had been her friends, but whether she was entirely guilty or only the too) of her father he could not guess. The Jatter seemed unlikely, remembering the scant consideration paid old Barney at all times, but it was strange that this knowl- edge failed to anger him, but instead filled his sou] with smothered pain and a sense of loss that nothing could fill. Now that he saw her no longer the trails in the hills and across the valley seemed to be filled with the spirit of the wild, sweet passionate child, whose fury and caresses, repentances and rage, lay so closely akin. And he knew that others than himself shared this regret, for her name had almost ceased to be spoken among the men to whom she had a little while ago been a pet and plaything. If one, more than another, knew anything to her discredit, he said nothing, and Little Britches if condemned in secret was spared public calumny. The Circle O man was the first who had mentioned her name to Billie. He answered with a curt word of thanks for the package of mail nearly all of which belonged to Geraldine. As he turned away he saw her waiting in the door with an eager smile for her letters. Geraldine had changed almost overnight from the pale, troubled girl she had been when she came to the Three Nines. Her face had Jost its faintly harassed look, and the winds of the open range had whipped color into her delicate cheeks. She walked with a freer, more assured air and her eyes glowed with a subdued happiness half veiled behind her natural reserve, but adding doubly to her loveliness. She took the letters from Billie’s hands and glanced over them eagerly. At sight of one envelope her expression changed. It cComicboOoks.€©