The Argosy, Vol. 76, No. 3 — page 46: what you’re looking at

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

516 was afoot, leaving the burro and all the meager grub-pack for Bremerton. High and low Bremerton searched for him, but whenever O’Hara effaced himself he did it thoroughly. No trace of the Irishman could Bremerton find. For many a month after that Brem- erton’s heart was sore. come into his life shortly after Deane had gone out of it, and the flute-play- er’s loss was a blow. The friendship of the right man for another who is right is one of the greatest gifts of God. And it never ends, here or hereafter. On the morning after his night’s work in the hills Bremerton was wa- kened by soft music outside his door. Thrilled, he sat up on the cot and greedily drank in the melody. He was happy, but he was not precipitate. The ways of the man outside were known to him and he deferred to them. To the strains of “ Mollie O ” he got up deliberately and put on his clothes. When he was quite ready he went into the outer office and unlocked and opened the door. A hatless man with red hair sat on his door-step playing a flute. Not by the wildest flight of fancy could the man be called handsome. His nose was short and his upper lip was long. His eyes were a washed-out blue, and while one of them looked straight at you the other surveyed the land- scape. He was lean and long; doubled up as he was, his knees all but touch- ing his chin, his length was painfully in evidence. But he was comfortably clad. In fact, his whole appearance radiated prosperity. It was not an effusive prosperity, but an ample amount for creature comforts. With one eye fixed on Bremerton and the other looking around the cor- ner of the adobe, he continued his playing. Bremerton took a chair and sat down. After “ Mollie O” had been played up and down and across, with trills and variations and the chorus three times O’Hara had: THE ARGOSY. repeated, the player took the flute from his lips and pushed it into a new, green cloth bag. “Come in, O’Hara,” said Bremer- ton calmly. ‘I owe you sixteen dol- lars.” ‘ Divil a cent do you owe me,” and the wide mouth of O’Hara opened in a roar of laughter. “I’m owing you a thousand this minute, Bremerton, and no one has been able to see me for dust in the rush I’ve made looking for you. Luck’s changed a little, a very little, for O’Hara, or I’d never have ventured to run onto your trail. The debt, you mind, could have been canceled by post.” He pulled himself up from the step, shook his angular frame, and came in- to the little room. Twisting a package of bank-notes out of an inside pocket, he flung it to Bremerton. “Well, by glory!” Bremerton stared at the money as though hypno- tized. “ A thousand plunks!” said O’Hara, grinning. “Count ’em.” “Where have you made a raise, Mike? And why in blazes am I en- titled to a share in it? ” “So you'll be lookin’ a gift horse in the mouth, will you? Shame on you for tryin’ to dodge good money at the hand of a friend! It’s no safe I’ve been crackin’, no strong-arm work in it at all, at all. “Och, my boy, you could never guess. We thought it a limestone stringer, with not much under the grass-roots but heartache and disap- pointment. Sure, we never made a bigger mistake. “Lee, the old Light o’”Hope has bf made good to the chune of a couple of thousand. By the same token, your half is there in that wad. Now will you behave? ”’ Bremerton looked incredulous. O’Hara hastened to explain. “This is the way of it, and on my soul you can’t be more surprised than I was when the miraculous truth hit me in the face. ’Tis six months gone COMicdoo S CO@