Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 1, 1922 — page 25: what you’re looking at

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

WHISPERING SAGE. watched the girl go. He tarried to roll a smoke. Swimming had lost its attraction. Melody’s talk came back to haunt him. If the freckle-faced man was right, the future was black enough for this girl. ‘Basques seem to have a habit of al- ways getting the worst of it,” he mused. It never had mattered to him before. He thought of his own possible future part in this conflict. His mouth straightened into a grim smile as he realized how his being a Double A man would temper her opinion of him when she discovered it. Yet what difference would the little weight that he could throw on either side make? If Ack- lin was intent on driving out the Basques, he would bring forces enough to win with- out him. There was going to be a fight. It was in the air. It meant something to Kildare now. He couldn’t go away. Paradise Val- ley had a claim on him. He had not come there by accident. My Man reveled in the cool waters of the Washoe as Blaze dreamed on the bank. The shadows deepened. The man’s mouth lost its hardness. Old memories of home and the brother he had raised and lost came to him. “‘ Gee, kid,” he murmured, “ you’d like her, too. I can’t see her get a raw deal. I suppose it’s as natural for some men to hog it all as it is for fish to swim, but if any- body steps on her toes I’m going to get per- sonal. Ill chalk that down so I won't for- get it, either.” My Man stared at him curiously. Blaze laughed half-heartedly. ‘‘ Qld-timer,” he said, “‘ I guess I’ve gone crazy. But she was sweet, wasn’t she?”’ He got to his feet and stretched himself. ‘“'What’s the use?” he said deprecatorily. “A rolling stone hasn’t any business think- ing such things.” CHAPTER VI. “ FREEZE WHERE YOU ARE!” TRETCHED out around the tiny’ fire S in the willows, heads pillowed on their saddles, the four men waited. The long twilight was over. From the nodding 815 sage came the sad, plaintive cry of the whippoorwill, lonely and foreboding in its three-toned monotony. Punctual, almost to the minute, the night wind came whispering, sweet with the fra- grance of purple sage and clean brown earth. To the eastward the crystalline peaks of the Santa Rosas, fringed with a delicate tracery of stunted cedars, stood outlined, glowing in the witchery of the desert night. The world waited for the wonder they withheld. And then suddenly valley and mesa were bathed in vibrant light. The round, heavy, golden-yellow moon hung low above the mighty range; the cedars no longer trees, but gossamer webs of silver. Skip yawned and got to his feet. “Late enough,” he sighed. moon’s up. Let’s go!” In Indian file they left the shelter of the trees. Half an hour later they forded the Little Washoe and held north for the dry wash of the Webster. The ghost-like willows that lined the old wash rustled and creaked in the wind; but the kindly moon had touched their limbs with its magic. Skip held up his hand. “That fringe of dead willows marks the wash, Kildare. Melody, you side him east aways. Better let him stick around Rebel Creek. It’s the least likely place for any one to come through. Chet will trail me. I'll hang out around the Winnemucca road. If we have any trouble, it ’ll be there— freighter or somethin’. I'll drop Chet about halfway over.” He turned to Chet. “You and Melody keep in touch with each other. You can see a long ways in this light. Come on!” He wheeled his horse and loped off after the receding Chet. Blaze and Melody jogged og. The red-haired one was quiet, serious. Kildare had said nothing about meeting Mercedes, but he had thought of little else ever since. A rabbit scurried across the trail ahead of them. Melody came up alert, his hand on his gun. Blaze smiled. “Even a rabbit scares you to-night, eh, Melody?” “ The comiclboooks C©