Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 1, 1922 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

$12 “No. We got all the land in the world. Tt’s water this time.” As Blaze ate, Melody explained himself, and his surmise was more correct than he knew: “ There wasn’t a thing in the wind until this fellow buys in the old Webster . I heard down in Golconda that Hank had sold it,” Blaze smiled. “ He’s been drunk ever since. ‘Sounds as though he must a met up with somebody from the effete East.” “No, not this Zombre. He throws a mean leg over a horse. He’s Western by his talk. Too talky for me, though. Says he’s goin’ to ranch it. Can’t do that with- out water. The big boss and he’s been get- tin’ thick. We're goin’ to have trouble. If you're done let’s nde up and have a look at the valley.” Melody pointed out the broken edge of dead willows and buckthorn that marked the spot where Rebel Creek had divided its water in the past, and sent part of its pre- cious burden across the heart of the valley. They sat in their saddles and smoked as the red-haired man talked. “-That’s a big place there in the bend, just before Rebel Creek gets to the river,” Blaze drawled. He could see the irrigation- ditches which crisscrossed the land as though they were ribbons of silver that bound it together. “ That’s the Rancho Buena Vista. Wait till you see the girl that lives there—Old Tronsides’s daughter. She’s the reason they named this place Paradise. Her daddy is the king-pin of the Basques. He’s ali right, is José. Only bosco I ever savvied. He’s got a son, too. Always pullin’ on the bit, that boy. Too much fire in him! ‘Then there’s a blind kid—RBasilio. No mother either. Pretty tough that, eh? I knew the old lady. Wasn’t any Basque. Guess that’s how the senorita gets her spunk. But wait till you see this Mercedes girl. Man, when I look at her I don’t miss sugar. She’s sweet. . . . G’wan you ole fool,” he growled to his horse. “ Let’s go back.” “You go on, Melody. i’m gomg down to the river and let my horse roll around in the water. He needs it if I’m going to use him to-night.” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “ Keep your eyes open. I got a hunch some of these Basques ain’t dumb to what’s goin’ to be pulled.” CHAPTER V. MERCEDES THE ALLURING. HE first oool hint of evening reached Kildare as he picked his way along the Little Washoe. The water gur- gled at his feet. Both horse and man be- came anxious to sport in it. The river nar- rowed directly ahead of him. It was a like- ly place for a swim. There were willows -on the opposite bank. He pressed his knees into his horse’s sides and was about to ford the stream when the animal threw back its ears. It was an unmistakable sign. Some one was coming! Kildare reached for his gun. As he did so, he heard a child crying. He wheeled his horse and sent him along the soft bank about fifty yards to where the river turned. What he beheld caused him to shake with laughter. fie put away his gun guiltily. A burro stood knee-deep in the middle of the river. Marooned on his back was a frightened child, madly clutching a fishing- pole in one hand, while in the other he held a string of small bass. With his tiny heels he beat the burro’s sides, and alternately shrieked and cried at him to move. Strug- gling in the water at the burro’s head was a girl; the most beautiful girl Blaze had ever seen. She had taken off her shoes and stock- ings. WRare-legged, her dress held high about her waist, she yanked and pulled at the bridle-rein as she poured forth in volu- ble Spanish, and more explicit American- ese, a torrent of words. It was the Senorita Mercedes and Basilio. Early that morning the lad had begged his sister to go fishing. The sloughs along the river were running full, and he was fisher- man enough to know that the bass would be biting. The boy and his sister had been on their way home when the burro had calied a hait. Blaze knew the child was in no danger, so he sat and watched them. He guessed by her coloring that the girl was a Basque; comicloool C©