Argosy, Vol. 123, No. 1 — page 81: what you’re looking at

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

PRIDE OF TYSON. “T think I might like the padre, Rona.” “And yet,” she said, and ~she leaned close, whispering: ‘““I am so glad that I heard you say it.” She sat on her rock again and asked him seriously: “Am I very wicked?” “You're delightful,” said Tyson. that permitted? “I suppose so,” she said cautiously. ‘“But I sha’n’t ask the padre.” ce No?”’ “No, because something tells me he would say it is very wrong. I myself, se- wor, feel that it is wrong!” ‘Explain yourself, Rona.” ‘Have you ever taken fire upon the end of two sticks, and played with it?” ‘* Never.” 3 “Tt is great fun. You can dance with the fire, and in the night it is lovely to watch against the sky. But then the flame may drop down the sticks, very suddenly, and set your clothes all on fire. It is dan- gerous, you see. And talking with you, Seftor Tyson, is like dancing with the fire.” She sat suddenly, stiffly erect. “ Hush!” she said, her lips framing the caution soundlessly. ‘“‘ Some one is watch- ing us! I feel it!” : And Tyson, turning, saw a. sight that made his blood run cold. For on the edge of the forest, leaning against a tree, was the strangest figure of a man he had ever seen. It was an old face, and yet it was framed in jet black hair—long, wild hair. His skin was sickly pale. His eyes were so bright a brown that they seemed red, and the man was laughing silently, like the erin of a wolf-hound. Tyson turned’ his head slowly back to the girl. She was already on her feet. “He. has come for me,” she said. ‘‘ Good-by, Senor Tyson!” And when Tyson rose he no congen saw the ghastly, laughing face beside the tree, but toward this place Rona walked and disappeared instantly among the foliage. “Is that Padre Miguel?” muttered Ty- son to himself, or is it the Big Man?” He kicked another stone out of his way, viciously, and then turned and looked back through the trees. Far away a bird began whistling. 71 “The devil . take the girl,” muttered Henry Aysna. CHAPTER XII. TEQUILA? OW that time meant so much to him, Garth lived under a_ tremendous strain, rising with the first light of day, and laboring incessantly until midnight and later. Sometimes for twenty-four hours at a stretch he did not close his eyes; many a day his only rest was an hour flat upon the floor with his arms thrown wide, crosswise. He had a vast reserve of mus- cular and nervous energy, and he drew upon it remorselessly to meet the crisis. For without him work on the dam went helter-skelter. There was no assistant, no second to whom he could entrust the man- agement for even a moment. Now a few days at top speed and a little luck in the delaying of the spring floods, and all soe be well. He multiplied himself, and the common- est laborer felt the eye and the inspiration | of the big boss. The casual observer could have noticed little difference in the roughly hewn face of Garth: he was a little thinner, that was all. But to the careful eyes, there was a long story in the bulge of the muscles at the base of the jaw, the hollowing of the cheek, the sinking and Drie ICEERE of the eye: and the most careless of those who saw him daily noted a nervous habit growing upon him—a restless flexing and reflexing ef his right hand that continued without ceasing, day and night, as if’he were tak- ing up the uncompleted labors of others who had failed. Living in this atmosphere of endless strain, no success made him smile, no fail- ure made him scowl. He kept an even front to all occasions. So, on this Thursday afternoon, a Garth stopped with an exclamation and < scowl, the young engineer who was going the round of the works with the big boss looked upon him with astonishment and , concern. The smashing of the fifty-ton crane the day before had not brought such COnmiclbooks (©