Argosy, Vol. 123, No. 2 — page 103: what you’re looking at

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

PRIDE OF TYSON. 205 “TI must go now,” murmured the padre, rising. ‘“ Good evening, Senor Carnahan. Good night, Rona. Mr. _ Tyson, you must come to see the mission.’ And so he was gone with bowed head through the door; and Tyson understood, with a flash of intuition, that the good man bore the burden of the sadness in that home upon his shoulders. The moment_the door closed, Carnahan leaned forward, the fragile cigarette crush- ing to shapelessness between his nervously contracted fingers. ‘“‘ Did you get it?” he whispered to Rona. “Did you get it, girl?” - Tyson watched her eyes widen with hor- ror, and fear, perhaps. “T got it,” she answered faintly. Carnahan closed his eyes tightly and drew a vast breath of relief. ““T saw nothing when you came in,’ he said. “I didn’t see that you carried any- thing. And I thought, for a moment— well, thank God! Quickly, Rona. Quick- ly! I have been dreaming of it!” His long-fingered hand was fumbling at his throat through the beard. ““T got it,” said the girl faintly, “ but it was ios the bottle was broken on the way.” The full import of what she said ap- peared to filter slowly into the mind of Carnahan. He sat with his lips still parted in that thirsty smile, but gradually they closed to a grim, set line, and into his brown eyes came that red light which Ty- son had seen in them that other day—a nightmare thing to watch it grow. Carna- han rose from his box. He held out his hand toward his daughter with the fingers distended as stiffly as talons. ~ “You lost it? You broke the bottle! Then why did you come without it? By God, it’s a plot against me! You're trying to drive me distracted. And I’m dying of it; dying of the fire within me. Why didn’t you go back and get another bottle?” ‘“* Because I hadn’t enough money.” “You lie!” cried Carnahan in a terrible voice. “It’s a plot. Oh, I see through you! It’s a plot.” He made a long stride toward her, and she stood against the walls, cowering, liter- ally paralyzed with terror. The chills which ran through Tyson’s own blood kept him motionless for an instant longer, then he called: ‘“‘ Mr. Carnahan, I’m guilty of this. I was carrying the bottle, and I dropped it.” Carnahan turned, and then Tyson under- stood the dumb fear of the girl; for he was facing a demoniac. “You” snarled the monster into which Carnahan had turned. ‘“ You?” He was beside Tyson; he seemed to have glided there without the agency of feet, so swift was his coming, and around Tyson’s wrist settled a grip like steel bands shrink- ing into place. Over the shoulder of the maniac he saw the girl, sick and weak with horror. She could not even cry out. And Tyson looked calmly into the red eyes be- fore him and wondered why he was not. afraid to die. For he was very near death, he knew. Even in his full vigor it would have taxed him to meet this gaunt giant in his frenzy, but now that undernourishment and overwork had sapped his muscles— _ He reached behind him, not daring to take his glance from the glowing eyes be- fore him; he felt that if he flinched, if he winced, if he turned his look away, the peril would be loosed and launched at his throat. That hand he sent groping blindly along the shelf behind him, seeking for any- thing which might serve as a weapon. The fingers closed on wood; he jerked out a violin, clutching the neck of the instrument with nervous strength. A foolish, flimsy weapon, but it might free him for a second from Carnahan. ‘Loosen your hand, Mr. Carnahan,” he sald quietly. “I warn you, loosen your hand!” “A plot,” said Carnahan thickly, “ and you're in it. So’s Rona. Every one is in it. Every one’s against me!” He leaned a little closer, his lips work- ing. “Stand away from me,” cried Tyson. ‘““T.warn you for the last time, Mr. ona -han.” And he swung the violin up to a strik- ing position. At sight of it the face of Carnahan was transfigured to blank horror, terror. ‘Give it to me!” he stammered in a DOOK C@