Argosy, Vol. 118, No. 4 — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

THE TRAIL HORDE. “With that corral—over there.” He pointed. “Why, it’s empty!” “ That’s why.” ‘“ Why, you are pleased! That is odd. As a buyer, I should think you would be more pleased if the corral were full—had cows in it. That is what you are here for, isn’t 1t?” “Yes,” grinned Warden; ‘to keep it empty until it is filled with steers at my price.” “Oh, bother.” The woman yawned. “I am glad it is you and not I who is to deal with these clodhoppers. I should turn sour —or laugh myself to death.” “Are you getting tired of it already, Della?” ‘ Dreadfully tired, Gary. If I could see oné interesting person, or a good-looking man with whom I could flirt—” “Don’t forget our engagement, Della,” warned Warden. She laughed, shooting a mischievous glance at him. “Oh, it would be harmless, I assure vou—mere moral exercise. Do you imagine I could lose my heart to one of these sage-brush denizens?” “Not you, Della,” grinned Warden; “that isn’t your style.” The girl yawned again, and got to her feet, smoothing her ruffled skirts. Then she walked to a mirror on a wall near the door, and spent some time placing the felt hat on her head at a precise angle, making certain that the coils of hair under it were arranged in the most effective manner. She tucked a stray wisp into the mass at the nape of her neck, patted the glistening coils so that they bulged a little more—smiling with satisfaction at the reflection in the glass. — “Well, good-by, Gary. I left Aunt Han- nah at Corwin’s store. She'll be afraid I’ve eloped with you. No,” she added, as Warden advanced toward her; “no kisses now. I'll look in again before we leave town.” z She opened the door, and as it closed she flashed a smile at Warden. Then he heard her descending the stairs. He watched the closed door for an instant, frowning disap- pointedly; then he strode again to one of 489 the front windows, grinning as his gaze rested on the empty corral. CHAPTER IV. THE SINGLETONS GO TO SCHOOL. ACCIDENT or design had placed the schoolhouse at the eastern edge of the town. The invisible power which creates the schoolhouse seemingly takes no account of time or place. It comes, unheralded, un- sung, and squats in the place where the invisible power has placed it, and instantly becomes as indispensable as the ungainly youth that occupies it. All youth is not ungainly. Ruth Hamlin was considering the negative proposition as she stood on the little platform in front of the blackboard just before noon, calmly scrutinizing the faces of the score of pupils who composed her “ class.” About half of her pupils, she decided, were worthy of the affection she had be- stowed upon them. The remainder were ungrateful, incorrigible hoodlums. A good teacher must not be vindictive; and Ruth was trying her best to keep alive the spark of mercy and compassion that threatened to splutter completely out. Despite her apparent calm—the outward sign of cold self-control—Ruth’s face re- vealed indications of the terrific struggle that was going on within her. Her face was pale, and though her eyes seemed to smile, there was a gleam far back in them that suggested thoughts of force, instant, vicious. Also there was wrath in then— wrath that threatened to break with vol- canic fury. The girl was of medium height, and yet she seemed to be almost tall as she stood on the platform. She was erect, her head was held high. She was slender, with a grace- fully rounded figure, but as she stood there, her muscles straining, her chest swelling with the passion she was trying to sup- press, she must have appeared Amazonic. to the culprits whose crimes had goaded her to thoughts of corporal punishment. It was not difficult to single out the cul- prits. There were two, and they sat defi- antly in their seats, sneering their contempt im (S| QO) NOOK