Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 23, 1924 — page 83: what you’re looking at

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

THE WEASEL. jammed his hat down over his eyes and ran out to the shed. A minute later Nan and Owen saw his thin little figure astride his burro, spurring that animal into an awkward run. The gathering darkness soon shut the eager lit- tle man from view, and the watchers turned to Old Man Masterson. It was the sheep that worried him, and he clung to the hor- ror of their fate with a singleness of con- centration that was rapidly driving him into a state of exhaustion from which he could not rally. A half hour passed. Then fifteen more minutes. The old man was wearing him- self down, his eyes glaring about him un- seeing, and muttering feebly but fiercely, ‘“My sheep! My poor sheep!” Over and over he said it, like some sad litany. The doctor drew Nan aside. “T don’t know what to do,” he con- fessed. ‘‘ I haven’t any dope to quiet him. If he could only rest with his mind easy, he’d pull through. But he’s killing himself like this.” The room, for one brief interval, became quiet. Suddenly the three watchers at the bedside started. ‘What was that?” asked Nan Again it came, floating in through the open window—the sound of a bell. Then came the plaintive bleat of a ewe, followed by the high treble cry of a lamb separated from its mother. And the sound of the bell beat regularly. Even the old man heard it. Wonderment overspread his face. “What’s that?” he faltered. “Oh, I know! I’d know that bell anywhere! Big Dan is bringin’ ’°em home!” ~The sound of the bell came nearer, lead- ing toward the corral. Mingled with its tinkling was the sound of bleating sheep, and now and then the muffled sneeze of a sheep trying to breathe through the dust. Owen looked at Nan in astonishment. “Well, I’m a son of a gun,” he whis- pered in awe, “ that little devil actually is bringing ’em in! It’s impossible—and he’s done it!” Over the face of the old man came an ex- pression of contentment. He rested his head back on the pillow and soon was asleep. The doctor bent over him. 6 A 241 “It’s all right now,” he told Nan and Owen; “he'll pull through without any trouble.” Dr. Gibson went out, and soon his fliv- ver was sputtering away toward Lamapesa. VIL. OWEN and Nan left the sick room and walked out in the moonlight toward the corral. In the distance, back of the river, a dozen glowing spots, where old stumps still burned, marked the course of the fire. A few thin clouds hurried across the skies, giving promise of rain soon. “Tf your father didn’t love that scraggly buneh of sheep so much,” began Owen, “Yd be sorry they’re not all roasted up there in the bluffs.” ‘“* When he gets better,” said the girl, “I think he’ll agree to part with them. He'll have to rest a long time.” “And then,” responded Owen, with a sigh of vast relief, ‘“‘ then we can get mar- ried, get rid of this little herd of sheep and bring your father over to live with us.” “All right,” assented Nan, and they walked on in silence. They came to the tall rock fence around the pens and leaned against it. Suddenly Owen looked up, puzzled. Then he peered out over the fence. The girl’s glance fol- lowed his. “Why, what—?” the girl faltered. And then she knew. For there were no sheep. Only the empty pens, with the’ rock fence, and the scurrying clouds overhead. Owen and Nan walked around toward the shed, fearful of what they should see. They came upon the burro, hunched dejectedly, and giving forth the odor of burnt hair. A dozen feet away, barely discernible near the entrance to the shed, was another figure, lying on the ground. Owen ran over and lifted this figure. It was the Weasel. The face that turned toward Owen was set in a grim smile, but the eyes were closed. His hair, even to the eyebrows, was burned away. His clothes were in tatters. And when Owen saw, clasped tightly in the Weasel’s right hand, the brass bell of big Dan, he understood. Somewhere out in the bluffs the Weasel—the little half- Gomichooks > - a <