Argosy, Vol. 123, No. 1 — page 89: what you’re looking at

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

PRIDE OF TYSON. But this was the unlucky instant chosen by the mocker to hurl his choicest and longest insult. Tyson could not follow the Spanish of it, but it set a sudden fire blaz- ing in the eyes of Rona Carnahan. She whirled and was after her tormentor. He had only time to shout once in alarm and cut at her with his whip—as well have struck at a cat! In an instant he was sprawling in the dust of the street, writhing, and the quirt in the strong hand of Rona lashed his half-naked body with strokes as loud as the cracking of a whip. Then he was up and raced down the street, shrieking in pain and terror, and every third or fourth step leaping into the air. Rona hurled the quirt after him and stood clapping her hands, doubled up in an ecstasy of mirth. At length she came slow- ly back toward Tyson. “It was an old whip and a very light one,” she complained, “ but three times, senor, I drew blood—once on the shoul- ders, and twice on the legs!” And she let her eyes flicker half shut, and drew a long, slow breath of relish. “If you had only had a blacksnake!” murmured Tyson. “Ah, Senor Tyson, if I only had!” Then she stopped and placed her arms akimbo, frowning at him aggressively. “* Are you mocking me, senor?” Her hat leaned in one direction, and the yellow feather in another, and a long lock of shining black hair gleamed over her shoulder. ““ Never!” said Tyson fervently. have too much respect for my hide.” Yet for all his effort he could not re- press a smile. “You do mock me!” said the girl, soften- ing suddenly. ‘“ But I don’t mind it. I al- most like it—in you, senor. Is not that strange?” “But you were » telling me how you did not give the fire-water for a long time to . your father, Rona.” Yes, At first he was very sad. He would beg me for it. Once the tears went _ down his face, and my heart was sick and very small. But what could I do, Sefor Tyson? I thought of the prayers of Padre Miguel, and the hard stones, senor!” 59 | prayers, and the hard, hard stones. ing by ipekine in his eyes! _prayers. 19 “Of course.” ; “Then he changed. He would be very angry. Once, twice, three times he caught me and he beat me. Usually he is like a child in my hands, but then he was a moun- tain lion. There is still a white mark on my shoulder—here!”’ She pointed to the place. ‘And _ still I remembered the many Well, he changed still again. He would sit in a corner and he could not look me in the eye, and he talked much of spiders with furry legs that were creeping up to spring on him. Sometimes he would yell very loud, and say that they were on him. But mostly he sat and watched them coming. And look, sezor! I, also, could feel them com- B-z-r! ‘““T brought the Padre Miguel, and he said that my father was sick and made him lie down in a blanket and said many After a while my father said nothing at all, but he would lie picking at the edge of the blanket and biting his fin- gers. And all the while his eyes went from side to side—so—so!”’ “But still you thought of the prayers and the hard stones?” “For a while, senor. El Toro.” ‘Who is he?” “An Indian I know. El Toro came to look, and he said that there was a devil in my father—a black devil that was very thirsty and needed the fire-water to drink. So I went and got more fire-water and brought it, and I did as El Toro told me— I gave him just a little bit in a cup. Ah, how he would cry and make a sad noise for more! But I never gave it. ‘He beat me again, but I had hid the bottle and he could not find it, and I told him that if he beat me I would never, never give the devil another drop of fire-water. So at that he was very much afraid. . But after a while he saw no more spiders and he did not roll his eyes. And every day I give him a little in the cup; twice.’ when the devil found out that he could have no more, he took that little and left my father in peace.” ‘“How does it come, Rot that Padre Then I went to cComiclboooks So | C©