Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 1, 1922 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

814 Blaze hung his head sheepishly. ‘Why, missy,” he stammered, “I just guessed at it. But I reckoned I knew who you were as soon as I saw you. I allowed he was your brother, too.” “You are a stranger, though, eh?” ““Er—yes. I was taking my first look at Paradise when I met you. I guess I better be on my way,” he concluded, hop- ing to turn the conversation. Mercedes had no such intention. ‘““How you know me, then, sefior?” she pursued. “Well, you see a—er—a man once told me, that ’—-Blaze knew his feet were step- ping on each other in embarrassment— “some day I’d meet a Basque girl here, with beautiful black hair—and black eyes —and pearly white teeth— ‘Yes, and when you do,’ he said, ‘ you’ll know why they call this place Paradise.’ ” Blaze regarded his twitching feet. ‘¢ And when I saw you,” he went on with eyes averted, “I knew he hadn’t lied. I guess that’s how I knew you were Miss Mercedes.” The girl’s long lashes dropped over her eyes. “Virgin santa,’ she murmured softly. “ But you say very nice things, sehor—”’ “ Blaze.” “‘ Senior Blaze,”’ she said. Kildare’s horse had not moved from the spot where Blaze had dropped the rein. He held his head erect, ears expectant. His master’s continued interest on the other side of the little stream seemed to worry him. He pawed the ground, and when that failed to earn him a word, he whinnied. Blaze whistled so low that Mercedes barely heard it. Instantly the horse come to him and allowed the girl to stroke his head. Blaze lifted Basilio into the empty saddle. “ He’s safe up there,” he assured her. “My Man likes children.” ‘What a strange name for a horse!” Mercedes said. ‘We are old pals. Gentle as a girl, isn’t he?” Blaze paused for a moment. “ Yes,” he went on, “a sight gentler than some I used to know.” It was Mercedes’s turn to look away. - Basilio called back. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “You remember them still, eh, senor?” Blaze shook his head and smiled. Before he could answer, the hoof-beat of a horse being driven at furious speed interrupted him. Mercedes got to her feet and took Basilio out of the saddle. “This will be my brother Esteban, or one of our vaqueros. Maybe some day you will try and find the Rancho Buena Vista, eh?” she added naively. ‘“‘Some day,” Blaze answered. ‘ And Il try hard enough to find it, too.” Mercedes blushed under ‘her tan. - The oncoming horse splashed through the water, covering them with a mist of silver spray. On his back sat Esteban, a thin, wiry, narrow-hipped youth. He leaped to the ground and, staring inimically at Blaze, launched into a tirade of excitable Spanish. The girl saw that he was upset and tried to restrain him. “Callar!’”’ she cried. you gone mad?” Blaze had a fair smattering of Spanish and of the universally understood Mexican idioms which the Basques had adopted, but he was unable to follow the rapid words Esteban continued to shower upon his sis- ter. He did catch the reiterated el agua (water), and ’cequia madre (mother- ditch). It meant only one thing. The Basques did suspect their danger. But Esteban found himself in quite the same position with Mercedes as did the boy with the horn. He had cried wolf so often that his sister refused to believe that things were as bad as he painted them. When her brother had finished, she tried to tell him that Blaze was a stranger and to explain how he had helped Basilio and her. Esteban thanked Blaze with some show of gratitude. He swung into his saddle and caught the child up beside him. Mercedes got on Capitan’s back. With Esteban lead- ing the burro, they started off. ‘You come to the hacienda some day,”’ ‘“‘T know where there’s “Hush! Have lots of fish.” Mercedes looked at her brother for con- firmation of the invitation. “You will be welcome if you come, se- nor,” Esteban answered. With a tightening of the heart Blaze comicloool C©