Merton of the Movies | Page 4

THE MONTAGUE GIRL INTERVENES XII. ALIAS HAROLD
PARMALEE XIII. GENIUS COMES INTO ITS OWN XIV. OUT
THERE WHERE MEN ARE MEN XV. A NEW TRAIL XVI. OF
SARAH NEVADA MONTAGUE XVII. MISS MONTAGUE USES
HER OWN FACE XVIII. "FIVE REELS--500 LAUGHS" XIX. THE
TRAGIC COMEDIAN XX. ONWARD AND UPWARD
CHAPTER I
DIRTY WORK AT THE BORDER
At the very beginning of the tale there comes a moment of puzzled
hesitation. One way of approach is set beside another for choice, and a
third contrived for better choice. Still the puzzle persists, all because
the one precisely right way might seem--shall we say intense, high

keyed, clamorous? Yet if one way is the only right way, why pause?
Courage! Slightly dazed, though certain, let us be on, into the shrill
thick of it. So, then--
Out there in the great open spaces where men are men, a clash of
primitive hearts and the coming of young love into its own! Well had it
been for Estelle St. Clair if she had not wandered from the Fordyce
ranch. A moment's delay in the arrival of Buck Benson, a second of
fear in that brave heart, and hers would have been a fate worse than
death.
Had she not been warned of Snake le Vasquez, the outlaw--his base
threat to win her by fair means or foul? Had not Buck Benson himself,
that strong, silent man of the open, begged her to beware of the
half-breed? Perhaps she had resented the hint of mastery in Benson's
cool, quiet tones as he said, "Miss St. Clair, ma'am, I beg you not to
endanger your welfare by permitting the advances of this viper. He
bodes no good to such as you."
Perhaps--who knows?--Estelle St. Clair had even thought to trifle with
the feelings of Snake le Vasquez, then to scorn him for his presumption.
Although the beautiful New York society girl had remained unsullied
in the midst of a city's profligacy, she still liked "to play with fire," as
she laughingly said, and at the quiet words of Benson--Two-Gun
Benson his comrades of the border called him--she had drawn herself to
her full height, facing him in all her blond young beauty, and pouted
adorably as she replied, "Thank you! But I can look out for myself."
Yet she had wandered on her pony farther than she meant to, and was
not without trepidation at the sudden appearance of the picturesque
halfbreed, his teeth flashing in an evil smile as he swept off his broad
sombrero to her. Above her suddenly beating heart she sought to chat
gayly, while the quick eyes of the outlaw took in the details of the
smart riding costume that revealed every line of her lithe young figure.
But suddenly she chilled under his hot glance that now spoke all too
plainly.
"I must return to my friends," she faltered. "They will be anxious." But

the fellow laughed with a sinister leer. "No--ah, no, the lovely senorita
will come with me," he replied; but there was the temper of steel in his
words. For Snake le Vasquez, on the border, where human life was
lightly held, was known as the Slimy Viper. Of all the evil men in that
inferno, Snake was the foulest. Steeped in vice, he feared neither God
nor man, and respected no woman. And now, Estelle St. Clair,
drawing-room pet, pampered darling of New York society, which she
ruled with an iron hand from her father's Fifth Avenue mansion,
regretted bitterly that she had not given heed to honest Buck Benson.
Her prayers, threats, entreaties, were in vain. Despite her struggles, the
blows her small fists rained upon the scoundrel's taunting face, she was
borne across the border, on over the mesa, toward the lair of the outlaw.
"Have you no mercy?" she cried again and again. "Can you not see that
I loathe and despise you, foul fiend that you are? Ah. God in heaven, is
there no help at hand?" The outlaw remained deaf to these words that
should have melted a heart of stone. At last over the burning plain was
seen the ruined hovel to which the scoundrel was dragging his fair
burden. It was but the work of a moment to dismount and bear her
half-fainting form within the den. There he faced her, repellent with
evil intentions.
"Ha, senorita, you are a beautiful wildcat, yes? But Snake le Vasquez
will tame you! Ha, ha!" laughed he carelessly.
With a swift movement the beautiful girl sought to withdraw the small
silver-mounted revolver without which she never left the ranch. But
Snake le Vasquez, with a muttered oath, was too quick for her. He
seized the toy and contemptuously hurled it across his vile den.
"Have a care, my proud beauty!" he snarled, and