Argosy All-Story Weekly, January 13, 1923 — page 42: what you’re looking at

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

a ' 4 " ' : ; £ isi. 504 | Behind the distant peak the sun was turning in for the night and flinging his robes of glory recklessly here and there upon the sky, when Steve Brown’s stage rounded the bend below the house. The tired team lifted their heads to answer a whinny from the corral. Daniel Frazer, tall and thin, came hasten- ing from the house. “Ah, Stephen,” he said in the grandly courteous way of his that made people smile at him. ‘And one of these gentlemen is Mr. Lutwell?” His eyes behind their black-rimmed spec- tacles were as eager and appealing as a child’s. “ That’s me, or what’s left of me,” the senior passenger groaned as he got down. “So this is Dr. Frazer? [Il say you live a long way from civilization nowadays, doctor.” “We have no trolley service out here yet,” the old gentleman replied. “ But, welcome to our suburb, such as it is.” Impulsively he yielded his hand to the New Yorker. Steve had never heard him called “‘ doctor ” before. It-appeared that the two men had had business dealings with each other in past years, but had never come face to face until now. “ Here, though,” said Lutwell, “ is a chap - Tl bet you’ve met.” The second passenger stepped forward with a smile. ‘ I’ve changed for the worse, sir, since you sent me to work for Mr, Lut- well,” he said. ‘So it won’t be surprising if you don’t recall me.” Professor Frazer tried to think. “Just a minute, please. Your name is Laird, sir. You are the lad who poured cold water into a flask of boiling vitriol and blew up the laboratory.” “And you saved my eyes, sir. If it hadn’t been for you I’d be sitting on a cold flagstone to-day with a tin cup in my lap. And while I was still in surgical gauze and unable to go home for the holidays—” “We had you with us on Christmas Day,” Frazer finished proudly. ‘“ My daughters still speak of you. Let us see if their memory is as good as mine.” Delightedly he took his guests each by ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. an arm and escorted them up the hill to- ward the house, making a brave try at ap- pearing to be the man they once had known. ‘“ A small world it is, gentlemen. Once J assayed unusual ores for one of you and taught blowpipe analysis to the other; and now—” ““ Now,” Lutwell’s voice came back, gen- ial as honey, “ the tables are turned, and we are going to do something for you.” A sturdy Mexican, trailed by a brood of half-dressed small boys and girls, all bru- nettes, drew near to help with the team. This was Miguel, the Frazers’ farm hand; the children belonged to him and his buxom wife Nita, who inhabited the log cabin be- yond the straw-thatched stable. “Well, Mike, how’s everything?”’ “ Everatheeng is vera bum,’’ answered Miguel gloomily. ‘ Nita, she got tweens these year.” “Twins, eh? now?” The Mexican held up eight fingers and two thumbs. Romance had profiteered with him. ‘“ Anahow, all right,” he added, brighten- ing. ‘“‘ Maybe that we all gone be reech; gone have planta cows, new suit clothes, piano, guitar, everatheeng. Maybe have Ford aut’mobile. Yess.”’ A girl came dancing down from the house through the. twilight. “Oh, you Steve!” she called. What’s the total score Her young man’s heart missed an ex- , plosion, as it usually did at the sound of _ her voice. Ordinarily, here in the hills, Nell Frazer dressed in free-and-easy khaki, but this evening she wore a muslin house dress in- stead, in deference to the gentlemen from the prim and fastidious metropolis, who might not be used to the idea of liberated legs. The spot of biscuit flour on one of her round and capable forearms accentuated the neatness of the rest of her. Although the daylight was dimming, ° Steve could see a multitude of excellent rea- sons for folding her tight and warm from the chill of the evening air. He throttled the worthy impulse, however, and thought of his jobless lot. Restraint was upon him to-night. She COMIC OOKS (E@)