Argosy, Vol. 123, No. 1 — page 84: what you’re looking at

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

14 site them on his loaded return journey to- ward the stacks of cement within, there was a pause in the music, and the face of Tyson set. 3 | - Garth saw that ‘his face was pinched, the eyes buried in shadow, the nostrils dis- tended to catch deeper breaths of that acid- ly dusty’ air; and the lips drew in a thin, straight line. The moment before he seemed drunkenly happy. Now he was ut- terly sobered, and seemed supperted on his feet only by a great resolution. One moment he swaggered with the insolent gait of the self-contented; but as he re- treated he seemed staggering, about to fall. - One thing Garth had noted above all. ‘The clothes of Henry Tyson, once the pride of a Fifth Avenue tailor, were ruined beyond repair. If his pride lay at all in personal smartness, then surely that pride must have fallen utterly. His shirt, worn to tatters below the elbows by the friction of the rough sacks against the cloth, his ‘trousers, his shoes, were layered thick with dust, and through .the dust had worked his perspiration, gluing cement and cloth mto a sort of brittle concrete. He was not even white. He was a grisly gray. | “Drunk as a lord,” chuckled Harris. “Drunk?” repeated Garth thoughtfully. ‘“ No, undernourished, I’d say.” And he muttered to ‘himself: ‘‘ The pride of the devil, but why in the name of Heaven is he doing this?” 7 He broke off and turned back to Rodri- guez. From him he heard a strange tale. On Monday of this week, El Oro had, come asking that he be given a place in the ce- ment gang. It was surprising, for. no white man had hitherto been consigned to that bitter labor. Rodriguez had asked ques- tions, but El Gro had insisted that he want- ed the job. He even seemed eager for it. What was there to be done? The new man did his full share of the work, and if there were any particularly obnoxious jobs, Fl] Oro gladly did it. Rodriguez had watched EI Ore. He had seen the gringo laugh at his work. There were even tales going about. Some said that the hand of God was manifestly upon the man with the golden hair. — THE ARGOSY. The rest of the gang had agreed from the first that it was a miracle that a white man should ask for such bitter labor, and they were almost afraid to work beside “him. Nevertheless the, days went on, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and nothing had happened. : It- had. seemed to Rodriguez, indeed, that EK] Oro was a very docile madman. But on the: morning of this very day—the fourth—El Oro had suddenly staggered while he was wheeling his truck along, and fallen upon the floor. When they reached him, he lay like dead, but in a moment he was again upon his feet, brushed them aside, and went on again like mad with his truckload. Aye, he even burst into song. The rest of the gang was then sorely stricken with fear. That one should sing in the cement house was like music In hell. But there was something infectious about the singing. Another caught up the tune. Then another. Before long the whole gang was in.an uproar. The work proceeded merrily. Men worked as if they loved their labor here in this white-misted, sweltering inferno. How- ever, Rodriguez implored Garth to let El Oro stay. Let others say what they would, he, Rodriguez, and ail his crew, were glad to have this merry wild man with them. Garth remained for another moment, watching the far-off figure of Tyson, and ulous Mexicans were right. The hand of God was upon Tyson, and had maddened ~ bit his lip. He felt almost as if the cred- | him. Why else should the foolish fellow choose this man-killing labor? He waited unti! Tyson once more passed them, trundiing along his hand-truck, and singing again with such force that his gait became a swagger. Or was it weakness that made him unsteady. Garth frowned more glcomily. If Mar- garet Tyson found her brother in this con- dition——always -supposing that she really came out to the dam—would she not turn her blame upon Garth himself? He stepped out and laid a hand ‘on the dusty shoulder of Henry Tyson. , It could not have been the weight of the hand alone. It must have been more the surprise at being stopped in this uncere- COn£COoO S C@