Argosy All-Story Weekly, November 13, 1920 — page 50: what you’re looking at

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

O28 cut on his forehead at the roots of his hair, and on top of his head she noticed a welt the size of a door-knob. With much effort ‘she finally succeeded in raising him to a sitting posture and propping him into a cor- ner of the boat, where she held him with her body close against his while she bathed his wound and wiped his eyes and lips with her rain-soaked handkerchief. Opening her shirt, the girl succeeded in tearing a strip from her undergarments with which she proceeded to bandage the wound. This proved to be no small undertaking, and it was only after repeated failures that she finally succeeded in affixing the bandage smoothly and firmly in place. The storm continued with unabated fury and, shiver- ing and drenched to the skin, she huddled miserably in the bottom against the uncon- scious form of the man. Added to the physical discomfort came torturing thoughts of her plight. Each mo- ment carried her farther and farther from Timber City—from Win. When the light- ning flashed she caught glimpses of the shore, but always it appeared the same distance away. ‘The boat was holding to the middle of the stream.- She knew they must have drifted miles. ‘“‘ What would Win say?” ‘Over and over the same question repeated itself in her brain, and step by step, she reviewed the events of the night. “I did right, I know I did!” she muttered. ‘“ They would have killed him!” And immediately she burst into. tears. Inaction became unbearable and, shifting the body of the Texan so that his head would remain clear of the ever-deepening wash, she seized the pole and worked fran- tically. But after a few moments she real- ized the futility of her puny efforts to devi- ate the heavy craft a hair’s-breadth from its course. The tree-root that had knocked the Texan unconscious had descended upon the boat, and remained locked over the gunwale, holding the trunk with its high- flung tangle of roots and branches close alongside, the whole structure moving as one mass. She discarded the -pole and tried to arouse the unconscious man, shaking and pounding him vigorously. After a time his ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. head moved slightly and, redoubling her efforts, she soon had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes open slowly. His hand raised to his bandaged head, and dropped listlessly to his side. Placing her lips close to his ear to make herself heard above the roar of the storm, she begged and implored him to rouse himself. He evidently under- stood, for he moved his arms and legs and shifted his body into a more comfor- table position. ‘‘ I—don’t—remember ”— the words. came in a low, faltering voice— ‘‘ what—happened.”’ ‘“When you cut the cable that root hit you on the head,” she explained, pointing to the root-stub that held the boat firmly against the trunk of the tree. He nodded his understanding, and in the illumination of the almost continuous flashes of lightning stared at the root, as if trying to collect his scattered wits. The boat jerked unsteadily, hesitated, jerked again, and the branches and uplifted roots of the tree swayed and thrashed wildly. He strug- gled to his knees and, holding to the girl’s arin, raised himself unsteadily to his feet where he stood swaying uncertainly, his eyes fixed on the thrashing branches. His vital- ity returned with a rush. His eyes narrowed as he pointed out the danger, and his voice rang strong above the storm: ‘“‘ Where’s the axe”’ Stooping, the girl recovered it from the water at her feet. Instantly it was seized from her hand and, staggering to the root, the Texan chopped at it with blows that in- creased in vigor with each successive swing. A few moments sufficed to sever it and, springing to one side, the man drew the girl to the bottom of the boat, while above them the branches thrashed and tore at the gun- wales. A moment later the craft floated free and, placing his lips to her ear, the Texan explained: ‘They stick down as far as they do up, an’ when we pass over a shallow place they drag along the bottom. If we’d struck a snag that would have held the tree, it would have been ‘ good night’ for us. That root would have ripped down through the bottom, and all there’d be’n left of us is two strings of bubbles. We’re lucky.”’ ‘Alice shuddered. ‘‘ An’ now,” continued JOOKS (E©)