Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 16, 1921 — page 52: what you’re looking at

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

WHITE HEATHER WEATHER. where the coachman had already gathered the reins. The leaders, by this time, were rearing with nervous excitement, and the moment the stable-boy stepped away from their heads they burst into a gallop, Sam- son wielding the lash of the long whip wick- edly. A red-faced fellow leaped up on the side of the coach and thrust his pistol in the very face of Samson; but the latter swung back the butt of his whip and knocked the man headlong back to the ground. A second later the coach was bow!l- ing along at full speed. They whisked around a corner and down a long hill, but climbing the opposite side they looked back and saw the coach of the pursuers whirling over the top. Four men sat wedged in the driver’s seat, among them Harchester, standing erect and lashing the furiously racing horses. From the windows appeared other heads; the vehicle was liter- ally packed with the enemy. “They'll never reach us!” cried the coachman, standing up to watch and clap- ping his hands with joyous excitement. “ Ah, Master Northam, a king’s ransom couldn’t buy this merry morning!” ‘T’ll wind the horses,” said Northam coolly, “if I run them up this hill. When we strike the level they'll overtake us.” “No, no!” cried the coachman. “ You're mad. 3?) “T can tell by the action of that team,” answered Samson calmly, “ that they are far faster than this one.” He drew a long breath and then said softly through his teeth, ‘ Look back ‘to my Lord Harches- ter!” ~ “A fine picture of a man, eh?” echoed — the coachman. “ His hat off, his hair flying, and hell in his heart—poor Harchester! Yd rather be dead indeed than face what he must live through. How they’ll laugh when the story goes abroad! His lady run away from him; his sword knocked from his hand by a—ha, ha, ha! God have mercy on poor Harchester, for the wits will have none!”’ “T set him on his parole,” said fhe Puri- tan grimly. “I spared him his life on promise that he would not further inter- fere with us this day. And he has broken his word.” 43 “Tut, tut, lad! Harchester uas made kindling of his honor a dozen times—and redeemed it in Lincoln’s Inn Fields! Bear with him now. The poor fellow is mad with injured vanity. Faith, I'll wager his wrist aches; but where did you learn that trick of the twisted swords? If I could show that to George, I’d break his damned proud heart with envy!” He broke off with an exclamation of dismay. ‘“ By the blue heavens!” he cried. “ They ave gaining on us! The lash, the lash, Master Northam!” As they reached the level, the following coach, indeed, bowled over the hilltop be- hind them; a gun exploded and a bullet whistled over their heads. “Tt ‘ll take more than that, my hearties, to make this ship heave to,” said the coach- man. ‘‘ Name of God, Northam! Will the nags do no better than that?” In fact, the horses were extended to their full speed, and the coach reeled drunkenly; and sometimes they heard ,the “moaning voice of Lady Malvern at her panic-stricken prayers. But still the pursuers gained, and swiftly. They dipped down a long incline. “ Here,” said Northam, rising, “ take the reins.” And he lifted his pistol. “Not at this distance,” pleaded the codchman, looking back. ‘‘ You’ll waste the bullet and God knows we have need of our powder.” Northam drew a careful sight, but at length he lowered his gun with a sigh. “He has broken his plighted word,” he said, “ and he is even now placing the life of the lady in jeopardy, yet I cannot kill him.” “Nay, if you can hit the mark, my bully boy,” cried the coachman, “ shoot him down . like a dog, and be damned ‘to him!” ‘““T cannot do it!”? muttered Samson In- tegrity. “If he were sword to sword to me—yes, but to take a human life by the pressure of a trigger— it is too horrible. Be- sides, his death might not stop them.” ‘““ Never a fear of that. The pack will quit when the leader drops. Yet, I’d rather see Harchester alive and laughed at than dead and forgotten. God ’a’ mercy, lad, how they gain on us!” Go NOOK = a (C@