The Argosy for May — page 79: what you’re looking at

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

266 bring you back. Said you was a drinkin’, dissoloot youngster, an’ that you’d got inter trouble before, an’ I was goin’ to take you straight home. An’ I gave the interp’ter a bit of gold every few min- utes, to pay him for his bother in gettin’ up so early. By the time we got to the jail, he loved me lke a white-haired twin brother.” ‘Oh, you clever old fraud!” I ex- claimed. ‘ I'll never—” “Oh, yes, you will. Next time you git mad at me. But never mind all that. The interp’ter sailed into that feller in charge of the desk in a way to satisfy the most fastijis. ‘T’other feller wasn’t fairly awake; an’ all he could see clear was a couple of gold looeys I passed him. He had you turned out of your cage, an’—an’ here we are! If we'd ’a’ waited till later, there’d ’a’ been a whole lot of nosey jacks-in-office in charge there, an’ we mightn’t ’a’ got off sO easy.” “But De Grieux is a French name,” I objected. ‘“‘ Why, didn’t they know an American wouldn’t have such a—’’ “What does any of these furreners know about our country? ‘The interp’ter ach’lly asked me was it true we hunted buff’lo in Noo York. What'd they know of America or American names? No more than a Yankee p’liceman would know of French.” “Shad,” I said, in amaze at it all, “do you know you’ve committed theft from our own embassy? That you've cheated the French government? That you—” “That you’re walkin’ free, instead of takin’ a-course of guill’tine shavin’?”’ he supplemented. “ That last is all I care about. We'll jest put the rest down to the charge account. But I’m kind 0’ sorry I had to fool that interp’ter. He was a nice fewer. Seemed real int’rested in how I came to lose my scalp. An’—’ “So you told Aim the scalp story, too?” I queried. ‘‘ What version, this time? ” “The true one,” he snapped. . “‘ Same as I tell every one. Same as I told Minister Morris last night. I—” “Did you tell Gouverneur Morris about—” ‘“ T__well—that is, I kind of pleaded with him when he wouldn’t help me. THE ARGOSY. I p’inted to my head, where a British shell had took off a part of the scalp, an’ begged him, in mem’ry of my patri- otic wound, to—vzow, what are you laughing at?” he ended peevishly. ‘‘ Shad,” I groaned’ in despair, ‘“ that’s the twelfth utterly different version of your last scalp that ITve—hallo,’ I broke off, “‘ what’s all this?” We had turned into the square, where stood the Abbaye prison, and were about half-way across the open space. From a street to,the right, burst into the square a screaming, cursing mob of men, women, and children. ‘They were fight- ing, tooth and nail, to break through a tight cordon of National Guardsmen, and to attack some one who walked in the center of the clump of soldiers. A;second glance—even at that dis- tance — showed me the prisoner they were striving to murder was a woman— a young girl. CHAPTER XI, A RED INTERLUDE. . For a moment my heart stood still. To me, the sight of a girl in the hands of the French law meant but one thing —Elise Périer. And, illogical in my dread, I ran forward toward the on- coming throng. A statue of “ Equality” stood in the center of the square. For better view, I jumped up on its high pedestal ; Shad- rach scrambled up beside me. “What ails you, son?” he queried, eying the advancing crowd. But I had caught a glimpse of the captive’s face; and, at sight of it, I heaved a great sigh of relief. It was not Elise. It was no one I had ever before seen; yet, my first reaction over, there was something in her look that held my gaze, and that seemed to draw the heart out of me. It was not that the girl was beautiful, or even because she was in peril of in- stant death. Her face was not lovely. Not really pretty. But one to compel attention. She was short — little more than a child in statue—but with a rather broad, powerful figure. Her long brown hair had come undone, and poured in heavy CORMICLOO© S (C@)