Picture Play Magazine (Mar-Aug 1916)

238 The Aryan a strange fire. There was something in his manner that puzzled the Firefly, frightened her. "I've been a fool," he said. "You have," she agreed. "The greatest fool that's ever tumbled into the Swinging Light." "And you've helped me be just that; you and women like you." The Firefly laughed gayly. "You compliment us, Steve. But I guess you're right at that. You fell for the baby stuff I pulled, just as if you'd never seen a woman before." Feeling more sure of herself now, the girl went on, while Steve sat in somber silence : "Remember how I came to you when they got you to put up a little money on the wheel? You weren't chucking your dust away fast enough, and I butted in. 'Don't you want to put up a little stake for the Firefly ?' I asked you. And you went to it like a bee to honey. Went the limit, while I was tellin' myself: 'Gee, he's easy!' And that scrap between me and Chip — that was a putup job to win your sympathy. And you fell for that, too, you poor boob ! After that, it was just a fight between us girls as to which of us could corral the biggest share of your dust. But, say, what are you doin' around here again? Ain't you hittin' the trail?" A moment he sat, stupefied by the candor of the girl's words. Then he leaped to his feet and clutched her arm with a grip that hurt. "You have damned me," he said, with lips drawn back from his teeth. "But you'll never have another chance to repeat. You were a fair purchase." He laughed hysterically. "And I bought you. You are mine — body and soul. I did not force the bargain. It was your own offer. Perhaps you did not know what it meant — few of your kind ever do. I'm sick of maudlin tales of men who wronged women. I know better now. I know it is you and women of your stripe who have ruined decent men. And now you're going to be the first to pay. I've got no further use for you as a woman, but I'm going to see that you never have a chance to throw away a decent man's life again." He spoke with a tense seriousness, but without raising his voice, and the Firefly plainly showed that his words frightened her. But before she could guess his intention, he caught her up in his arms and carried her to the street. Then a realization of her peril came to her. She struggled, sank her teeth into his wrist. She screamed pitifully, and he gave her back derisive laughter in response. His exit with the Firefly had been made so quietly that few noticed him ; but when the girl's screams rang out, the men flocked to the sidewalk. Steve did not stop to offer explanation. He flung the Firefly onto his pony, and, springing up beside her, galloped clown the street. A few scattered shots followed the fugitives, but they went wild, and Steve and his captive disappeared in a cloud of dust. Pursuit was useless. His pony was fleet, and he knew the trails to Devil's Hole as few other men knew them. Out across the desert he rode at top speed, to draw rein only when he reached the sun-scorched mountains of rock and began to pick his way carefully among the canons. In a pocket of the hills, not far from where he had found the gold that had been his undoing, he made camp. To be more correct, the Firefly made it. Sobbingly she did his bidding — built a fire of dried branches and cooked the beans he had brought with him. When she refused to eat, he laughed at her. "Fine !" he cried. "A hunger strike ! I didn't think you had the courage. Go as far as you like, so long as you don't forget to see that I'm provided for.