Argosy All-Story Weekly, December 2, 1922 — page 122: what you’re looking at

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

ond) Sed = 582 ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, With an oath, a grunt of surprise, the Scandinavian whirled about. Wildly, fierce- ly he looked in the direction from whence the words had come. Then, his eyes blazing on that arm holding the weapon, his own hand waveringly—just ‘oo waveringly— started to go to his hip. Before it reached there, however, more words came to him— words, somehow, that brought to his mind that other night two years ago: “Tl put a bullet through your brain, Landquist, if you move an inch, It’s Jason Kirk!” Stunned and noticeably sobered, the Swede stood there trembling—trembling like the craven at heart that he was. “Take that gun from your holster— with your left hand—and place it quietly on the floor. I think you know, too, that if you make one false gesture what will happen.” Jason then spoke to the girl, who was still standing there, white, tensed, but with her every nerve under perfect control: ‘“‘ When he places the revolver on the floor, Miss Armagnac, take it and cover him. If he tries any tricks, shoot to kill. I am coming in by the front door.” “ Thank you, Mr. Kirk,” was the almost casual reply. “I shall shoot as you say if necessary.” Jason, once inside, wasted no time. Lean- ‘ing against the door and favoring his bad foot, he bade Landquist approach him with his arms extended and his wrists one over the other. Then, with a piece of stout rope which the girl had handed him, he bound. them securely together. After that he opened the door. “Wait outside,” he told his captive. “And while you are waiting you might as well plan your exit from the country. I am giving you twenty-four hours, after I set you down outside of Boileau’s Hope, to leave the Northland. Ii I find you after that—” Jason Kirk shrugged, steadied himself with a hand on the knob, then faced Ger- vaise Armagnac as he closed the door. Si- lently, lengthily he gazed at her. In his gray eyes, as they met her own, there was an expression of searching, of almost preading, question. She herself, with a warm flush now quick- ly spreading over her cheeks, must have seen that something, too, in his eyes. She replied to it, however, in a dry, reserved voice that was as perfectly poised, appar- ently, as were her own emotions. “It does no good to say how grateful I am, Ja—Mr. Kirk. Any favor I may do in return—anything I possess—”’ “Anything—Gervaise?”’ Softly—but with a softness that was smoldering—he spoke the words. Instinc- tively he bent forward and, struggling with the pride in those clear gray eyes of his, there was a look of hunger, of longing, of hope. For a brief instant, as on that night at M. Pompelle’s in Fork River Landing, these two seemed to sway unconsciously each to the other; but again, as on that other eve- ning, they failed to come together. This time, it must be openly confessed, it was that mad Armagnac pride which first caused the dissension. “Anything,” answered Gervaise—and just the barest trace of scorn could be de- tected in the slightly upward curve of her lip—‘ that is—asked!” As if slapped in the face, Jason Kirk straightened. His cheek reddened, then whitened—reddened again. In a cold fury that he could not hide he shifted on his foot and opened the door. ‘“‘T never ask for that which is not freely and specifically offered.” He went outside. Still the gossips at Fork River Landing wondered, and conjectured, and even made believe that they suspected something defi- nite in one or two cases. For Gervaise Ar- magnac still stayed alone at Lac Morte, attending to her duties, and as coldly un- mindful as ever of men; and still Jason Kirk prospected out to the east of Boileau’s Hope, and had no second meeting—for they knew not of that adventure at the post— with the beautiful daughter of the dead fur trader. They were anxious for it to happen— particularly the little widow, now content- edly married—because various ones kept insisting that they were, inherently, people purely born to be mated. Could they have TA Gomichbooks.com