Argosy, Vol. 123, No. 1 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

4 T col ARGOSY. compliment to my intelligence over the mob’s. _“ As to that,” she said, a little wearily, “I did visit the weary and heavy-laden. They suffered from war as I do, though differently. For the woman who was dying I prayed, making the sign of the cross, as -my dead mother taught me in childhood. It was in that moment the poor woman breathed her last.”’ In a flash it was all clear to me. I looked at Master Slythey, and my sword burned to flesh itself in his sleek body. The mob | was not to blame. It followed its leader, glad, no doubt, of an opportunity to attest its horror of all ritual, if not actual witch- craft. It was Master Slythey’swork first and last. This woman was as pure in heart as a holy -angel. It was this spiritual purity of soul and purpose which had been her undoing. Slythey’s motive I could not guess, al- - though sure it was more than mere zeal of Puritanism. ~ . “Release the lady, and disperse your- selves!” I commanded the mob. But Master Slythey held them by merely lifting his hand. To me he said, with a kind of lofty condescension: ‘ Upon what authority, young Wee ‘The authority of a true man!” said J, as bold as a gray-haired veteran. ‘“ If au- thority be in question, by what sort do you propose to drown even a witch without trial, as the law of England requires?”’ Knowing that I had the right of it in this—although the mob was ignorant of the fine point—Master Slythey bit his lip. But feeling he had the rabble on his side, he pretended to have reached the end of his patience with me. ‘‘ Stand aside!” he suddenly shrieked, his face purpling with rage. “‘ Stand aside, up- start boy, or my fellows shall be compelled to use force!”’ “As to that—” I began, making a pass with my sword and at the same time sig- nalling the two women, who quickly got between me and the well parapet at my back. For a moment the crowd was checked by surprise. But then a low growl swelled into a roar. Before I could finish the chal- : me. _and an edge. lenge I had begun to word they were upon me tooth and nail. I had no desire to kill, or even wound any of these poor yokels. Slythey- I would have spitted with a will had he not urged his dogs upon me from the safe van- tage he quickly took on their flank. The mob kept clear of my sword-point and had the advantage of being able to- pelt me with sticks, stones, and turf clods with- out danger to themselves. Behind me the women’ cowered against the well parapet. All at once I heard a cry of pain from the maid, Ruth Prynne. Then I realized that if the women were to escape further injury from flying missiles I must charge and try to disperse the mob. Charge I did! But even as I leaped among my assailants a stone struck me squarely between the eyes, half stunning me. I staggered back, dazed, and would have fallen, but the pain of the cut on my brow revived me, and with that old blindness of fury I sprang at them again, laying about me with the flat of my heavy sword; for I still had mind that these were ' Englishmen and misled only by the villain who had roused them to this grievous in- justice. During the next thirty seconds it fared ill with me. The blood from the cut trickled into my eyes and blinded me. I could not see the enemy which mauled me from all sides. I could have presented no heroic spectacle to the two women whose champion I had elected myself. I had lost my steel morion in the first moments of the fray, and now a stout blow across my un- shielded skull sent me reeling back on my heels. My back collided with the stone parapet of the well and my legs gave way under I was barely conscious of a pair of arms about me, and a woman’s voice raised in shaming protest and indignation. That voice shamed me more, perhaps, than it did the mob. The lady was pleagie for her. champion. ; I pulled myself together, staggered to my feet, and roughly cast her protecting arms from me. Now I had no more thought for mercy. -There was a point to my sword, Rage and the desire to kill COMICLO© S C©