The Argosy, Vol. 76, No. 3 — page 213: what you’re looking at

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

PAY-DAY IN PALAOR. “Halt! Double-shackle those pris- oners, sergeant! Double the regular guard over the cage. A pretty good night’s work, Guzman! ” Yes, senor.” Dick started and let go of Edith’s hand. Was he dreaming? Surely, that was Tom’s old cheery votre dis- missing his men to quarters! Yet, how could a dead man talk eves Tagalog to living soldiers? He had seen his friend’s body, gashed and bleeding, un- der the flashing bolos of the outlaws. It was a physical impossibility that any man could survive such wounds. While the boy’s mind was wavering between a wild hope and wondering awe he heard a brisk step on the loose boards .of the veranda which caused him to cheer like a nipper watching his first “big league” ball-game. Tom, dust to the ears, telltale rents in his blue shirt and khaki field uniform, caught him and swung him to his shoulder. . This was the picture Edith saw as she opened her eyes—the most won- derful picture her heart could have longed for, her mind imagine. “Tom!” was all she said, and the name seemed to come from far away. “Yes, Edith dear.” | The lieutenant released Dick and knelt by the girl’s side. . they sure would have got me. 683 “What 1s it, dear? ” He took her hand, and the pressure of his fingers sent the blood coursing once more through her body. “We thought ’—she whispered and then stopped, unable to put the horror that had stricken her into words. “I understand,” said Marker; “ but it was a lucky error, after all. Only for Dick and you sending Sergeant Miguel and his men down the trail, That was Master Basilio in my Sunday best. I was taking the statement of a man who saw him hanging around old Cos- pito’s shack the evening before the murder was discovered, when my musical muchacho dolled up in my glad rags and gave me the slip. I followed as soon as I could, partly to get him and also to get something else. Do I get it, darling?” Dick had, discreetly, slipped out to the veranda. The girl was her bright self again. She was quite a long time giving Tom his answer, but ultimately she surrendered at discretion. It was Marker who called in his new brother. “ Dick, old boy,” he said as the de- lighted lad was making a desperate effort to hug two people at the same time, “I think we'll put you through West Point yet.” TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE WARS.. TELL me not, Sweet, I am unkind, That from the nunnery _ Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such _ As you, too, shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honor more. Richard Lovelace. CO 1TOO S CO@