Argosy All-Story Weekly, January 13, 1923 — page 40: what you’re looking at

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

by \S eS B62 senger commented. know they look well in them,” the junior passenger poetized. The senior passenger took no interest in the landscape. Instead, he asked sudden- ly: ‘“ Driver, do you know Daniel Frazer?” “ Sure,” Steve answered. “ What do people think of him?’” Local pride requires that a man shall -stand up for a neighbor when the inquirer is an alien. Steve’s reply was therefore optimistic. “Why, people respect Mr. Frazer highly. He leads a Christian life, pays his bills, minds his business—” “ Just what is his business nowadays?” “Well, he farms some, and prospects a little. He knows rocks better than a miner, they say.” * He does that, all right,” the junior pas- “He was the greatest mineralogist of his day.” * You know him, then?” said Steve, sur- prised. ‘““T was a student of his,’ Laird answered. “By the way, I used to meet a couple of small girls in his home. They must be grown up by now. Are they still with him?” ‘Steve became absorbed in his driving. Was it the business of any good-looking, swell-dressed Eastern man that Frazer had for his housekeepers and guardian angels the pluckiest pair of daughters south of the Arctic Circle? As for the deplorable fact that Nell was still with her father, Steve would not have discussed that with the President of the United States. There had been a time, just before the war, when the Honeyman post-hole diggers were selling so well that Steve felt war- ranted in asking Nell Frazer to name the day when they could marry and get to living, and Nell had felt warranted in naming it, The war had spoiled all that. Kaiser Wilhelm had hung a huge detour sign across their road to happiness. By now Steve should have excelled in advertising and dis- tributing the Honeyman diggers and risen from wages to dividends. Yet he was fooling along at juvenile jobs like driving stages for Zeke Pelham, and — rocky thank-you-ma’ams ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Nell was waiting while age crept nearer to her with every tick of the clock. In De- cember she would be twenty-four. Lutwell cleared his throat. ‘ Driver, would you say the old boy was—ahem— was all there in the head?”’ “What old boy?” Steve retorted. “ Frazer I’m talking about. Wasn’t he a bit off when he came out here?” “Tf he’s off,” replied the driver ‘sharply, “how is it nobody in town ever trims him at chess?” A guileful parry this, for Daniel Frazer, so far as Steve was aware, did not know king’s bishop from little casino. Steve’s first inclination to warm up to his passengers was turning to distrust. These men, rich, clever, spoiled—listen to Lutwell going on back there about his stomach!—-were coming to look at some- thing that poor old Daniel Frazer believed to be precious. Why were they so keen to find out if he were a fool? And this glib and dapper Laird person who asked for news of Nell and Janet—he looked enough like a lady killer to be horsewhipped on sight, blamed if he didn’t. The road was vile. There were steeps that drew squeals out of the brakes, and that extracted groans out of Mr. Lutwell. Perhaps the travelers would have had easier going if they had not put so many leading ques- tions. At noon they arrived at a cluster of weather-beaten houses and barns standing amid lonely upland fields and pastures. This was the Watkins mule ranch. The long-eared black creatures glowering at them over the fence were the mules. The heavy-set and red-cheeked man limping out on two canes to meet the stage was Thomas Watkins. : He swapped greetings with the driver. His rheumatiz, he allowed, was some days better, some days worse; and he bade the strangers welcome to such of the midday meal as his five sons might have left. Aiming to serve his war-stricken country to best advantage, Watkins had guessed wrong and gone in for mules. By the time his first crop of two-year-olds was ready: (E(0) 0)(0\6) AUG KS) (E@)