Argosy, Vol. 123, No. 1 — page 128: what you’re looking at

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

118 The prolonged effort of standing had used up his small store of strength. He lay down exhausted, his anger spent, and watched the burial. There was a sneer on his lips. But in his heart he was not sneer- ing. In his heart he felt solemn. Then he slept. It was evening when he opened his eyes. A sound, a terrible sound, came to him. Sobbing, dry and wracking. His first thought was: ‘‘ Ain’t the funeral done yet?”’ Then it occurred to him that nothing about the funeral had been so terrible as this sobbing. It tore at his heart. What could it be? It seemed to come from the ceme- tery. Then suddenly he knew, and closed his eyes. ‘ She’s—grievin’—for him!” “ Darlin’!”’ Linda’s agonized voice came through the shadows. ‘‘ Mort—darlin’!” He started. She had said ‘‘ Mort.” ‘* Mort—forgive—”’ “ Linda!” It was a feeble cry. But it brought her. She did not seem greatly surprised to find him there. Perhaps she, too, had gone through waters too deep to allow of a small thing like surprise. She leaned over him tenderly, held his blackened head against her breast. ‘‘Oh, God,” she whispered awesomely. And she carried him, in her strong young arms—he had lost weight amazingly—across the meadow to their cot- tage. Dawn found Mort bathed, between clean sheets, almost content physically. He watched Linda as she worked about the room. How pretty she was, how tender her movements. How he loved her. If only—she hadn’t gone away! If only, for he tried to be just, he had not driven her away! How happy they might be—if only—”’ She smiled to see him awake. But she did not quite meet his eyes. ‘‘ You feelin’ better?” she asked in an anxiously low voice. ‘* Heaps.” They fell silent again. “Say, who was in that there box?” he demanded suddenly. ‘I don’t guess it was me, after all!” ‘Oh, that!”” She seemed to welcome any THE ARGOSY. distraction from the main issue. ‘“ Why, you see, they couldn’t find hide nor hide o’ you, ‘ceptin’ your coat. So they thought as how you must be either all burned up or blowed up.” She shivered. ‘‘ ’N’ it didn’t seem right to be givin’—givin’ him Christ- ian burial ’n’ not you, so they thought as how they’d bury your coat, anyways. It seems kinda funny now, don’t it?” There was a hysterical and tremulous note in her utterance. Mort laughed a little, weakly. “It is sorta funny,” he said. Linda continued to busy herself about the room. ‘Young Payne’s goin’ to build up again,”’ she said presently. ‘‘ Granny Peebles heard so in town yesterday. You'll get your place back.” Still she did not look at him. Mort did not reply. ‘* God, girl!” he burst out at last. “ Look at me!” She faced him, breathing fast. ‘“ You don’t mean—you’re carin’—after—”’ she whispered. ‘Carin’! Come here, girl!” She flew to him, flung herself down be- side his pillow, held him close. ‘‘ Oh, thank God, I can tell you now!” she said, crying for joy. ‘“‘ Now I know you care, even thinking—that I—” ‘“ Hush, Linda! Never speak of it!” ‘But I must! I gotta tell you—that I —I left him ’fore we ever got to the sta- tion. I been up to Granny Peebles all the time, Mort. It was like him to pertend I went along!”’ Mort was piecing fragments. He under- stood now what Canfield had tried to tell him. A sense of peace and happiness came over him. Chastened, steady happiness. He knew that he should not swerve when the next test came. The warm forenoon sunshine splashed the neat chamber brightly. It warmed their sober, thoughtful faces. It warmed the pink roses on the wall. It warmed Linda’s round, white arm that hovered near him on the coverlet—the arm with the blue mark, now fast fading, thank God! ‘““T won’t say it ain’t spooky, attendin’ your own funeral, but it’s the best thing ever happened to me,” said Mort. Linda nodded, smiling. comicloool C@