10 Short Novels Magazine — page 114: what you’re looking at

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(112 % * ® Ten Short Novels Magazine of an icy drift he steadied the gun. Pug Mincher’s broad back was an indistinct target at best. But there were five bullets in that gun and Jinx Herbert was a skilled marksman. Suddenly Jinx Herbert began to swear. His gun was broken! In his fall from the top of that big boulder it had snapped off short at the stock. Helplessly raging he saw Pug Mincher rush forward toward the spot where Lou Dillard had fallen. The girl struggled; but her movements were not purposeful. The fall apparently had dazed her. She stopped struggling finally. Just once she looked back over the way she had come. Then, slim shoulders slumping, she ac- companied Pug Mincher as the latter headed northward along the thicket edge. CHAPTER VII TO THE DEATH T WAS late that night when Jinx Herbert entered the fringe of black- shadowed thicket near Pancoast’s camp. It was breathlessly still. Tiny frost par- ticles filled the air with a dim silver radi- ance. The policeman staggered when he walked. Wordless mumbling sounds squeezed out through his tight lips. His head felt like a red hot bundle of nerves on which a trip hammer beat a constant tattoo. His pursuit of Pug Mincher and Lou Dillard had been blundering and un- certain. He had lost their trail in the hard snow a dozen times. But he had always picked it up and had pushed on with dogged persistence. There were three of them left—and Lou Dillard. Even though he had scarcely been aware of what he was doing, Jinx Her- bert had gone back to his little camp and possessed himself of Tick Ellsworth’s 45-70 Winchester rifle. He held the heavy gun ready for instant use under an arm as the bandits’ camp appeared in the little clearing beyond the thicket. He made out the three tents and the smouldering fire. One of the tents he noticed had been pitched some distance from the other two. The flap of this tent was open and a little fire had been built close to that opening. The sleds and camp rw were piled about the other two ents. Jinx Herbert immediately guessed that Lou Dillard was the occupant of that third tent. He crouched behind a fallen log, and breathing hard, minutely in- spected the camp. There were many dogs moving restlessly about searching for scraps of food near the fire. Others would be buried in the snow sleeping—and there would be a guard of course. Jinx Herbert crouched absolutely mo- tionless, only his hard eyes moving, for several minutes. Three times his gun came slowly to shoulder; three times he lowered the weapon. Every instinct urged him to send a hail of lead into those two tents. Even though he failed to score a hit the occupants of the tents would be forced out into-the open. He could then pick them off. But first he had to be very, very sure about Lou Dillard. And there was no way he could be sure, without— His big body stiffened suddenly. The odor of tobacco smoke had come to him with a puff of icy wind. He groped to his feet; circled stealthily about through the black shadows. The man with the pipe would be the guard. Chances were the fellow was resting on one of the sleds. This game of stealth was not Jinx Her- bert’s game. His pugnacious nature did | not know caution. The longing to come to grips with his enemies urged him out into the open. For a long minute he stood on the thicket edge searching through squinting eyes for sight of the man with the pipe. A serunching step sounded behind him. He turned like a flash bringing his rifle, outstretched at the end of his long right arm, about in a swishing arc. HAT involuntary protective measure saved Jinx MHerbert’s life. He glimpsed a fur-clad figure. Saw the rifle in the man’s hand; the pipe tightly clenched in the man’s mouth. Then, a slight downward tug and the barrel of his swinging rifle crashed a side of the smoker’s head. Boot McQuillan dropped like a rotten log. Just before Jinx Herbert’s gun hit him, McQuillan had cried out hoarsely. The policeman swung arbitrarily about, rifle at shoulder. A dog yelped. From the near-by hills came the yowl of a wolf. Jinx Herbert’s eyes twitched from one to the other of the three tents. Suddenly, a white face appeared in the black open- ing of the third tent. Lou Dillard! Jinx Herbert swung his gun silently to attract her attention. The girl’s white face in- stantly disappeared. Jinx Herbert had no way of knowing whether or not she had seen him. He started tentatively forward, rifle gripped in his one good hand. His groping foot struck something soft and yielding. A dog jumped yelping out of the snow. A man cursed Then a voice: “Jinx Herbert!” It was the girl. Jinx Herbert stopped. Out of the cor- ner of an eye he saw Lou Dillard creep Gomichooks