10 Short Novels Magazine — page 76: what you’re looking at

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

Pe DPE Uae “What they told you about tryin’ to find Zeke themselves was a pack of damn lies!” Silky Ed Crowder grated. “We figured they’d try that stunt. That’s why we was gonna drag you—to make you confess.” Ruff fiddled absently with the guns he had taken from the foreman. His gaze found a huge pinion tree a hundred yards distant, rested there. “We gotta use skullduggery in this. I got an idea.” “What?” asked Stan Yonkel. “That tree over yonder—it’s got a limb stickin’ out just right to hang a man on. You fellers put me on my bronc, put the ’ brone under that limb an’ run a rope from my neck over it to the tree trunk. Tie it to the tree with a knot that'll slip if any weight is put on it, so there won’t be no danger of me stranglin’ if the bronc jumps.” “You mean us ride off like we’d left you to hang?” “Yeah. The big gent an’ the girl will cut me down. ‘They'll be sure I’m an enemy of your’ n. Pll roar like I want your blood, an’ they’ll maybe give me a job. If they do, I'll learn if they’ve got old Zeke.” ILKY ED CROWDER rubbed his hands. “That’s a good idea. Gimme back my guns an’ we'll do it.” Ruff shook his head. “What d’you take me for? Might as well tell you now I ain’t trustin’ nobody too much until I find out what’s what. I'll keep your hardware in my shirt. If one of you jaspers tries to pick up his gun, it’s gonna be too bad. I ain’t forgot you was gonna drag me through cactus beds.’ ~The foreman scowled uneasily. “One of you grab this rope on my ankles,” Ruff directed. “Pretend to cap- ture me. But be dang sure it don’t go no further’n pretendin’!” Instantly a Boxed-Y ranny seized the rope which they had intended to sur- cingle around the buckskin’s barrel. He yanked. Ruff waved his arms, fell back- ward. Old Stan Yonkel leaped upon him. “Careful!” Ruff grunted. “Tie my hands in front where I can reach the gun in my shirt!” His wrists were tied. They boosted him on the buekskin, led the animal] to the great pion tree. A lasso rope dropped about his neek. Casting alert glances about, Ruff was unable to discern a + of the girl or big Titanic Ha e dampened his lips. Had they taken fright and fied? If so, this elaborate trick was wasted effort. The rope snaked across the limb. Stan Yonkel himself waded into the dense a aria - eae Ng ee ae re nak eee ee ce x > : Sos “ > - 7 " ae ae ee ae < —— . < —_ a -— a : gp a i don es en i spe 74 * * *& Ten Short Novels Magazir a eel 4 5 ~ LZ 7 < * Ten Short Novels Magazine > bear’ around the pifion bole to make the fast. “Be dang sure that knot’ll slip!”. Ruff breathed. Old Stan Yonkel let him see the knot as it was tied. “That all right? It'll] come loose if your brone jumps.” “Sure. I'll have the big gent and the girl cut the rope so they won’t see it’s a fake knot.” Ruff twisted his head to ease the noose about his neck. “Drag it, you jaspers!” They strode off, Stan Yonkel to his sorrel bronc, the others toward the spot where they had left their horses. They all disappeared in the jumbled brakes. Minutes dragged. Ruff heard hoof sound of horses being ridden away, al- though no one appeared. The buckskin under him began to kick at biting flies, making him unpleasantly conscious of the noose about his neck. “Whoa, boy!” he grunted. He looked closely at the rope knotted about the pinon trunk to make sure it would slip in case of an accident. After that he felt better. The knot would certainly slip. There was no dan- ger of his hanging. Five minutes later, possibly more, he heard a rustle off to the right. It was repeated, as though someone were creeping through the sage. “Help!” Ruff howled, and made his homely face register as much agony as possible. He looked toward the sound, expecting the girl or huge Titanic Harrison to ap- pear. But they did not. Nothing stirred. The buckskin snorted, kicked violently at a greenhead. The tug of the rope at his neck moved him to glance at the knot again. Horror flooded his face. It was no longer a slipknot! Someone had crept, unheard, through the brush to the tree trunk and shoved a small stick through the loop portion of the knot. His convulsive start as he made the discovery excited the buckskin. The horse walked off. Leaning over, Ruff took up the slack in the rope as gently as he could. But the shock was still ghastly. His windpipe — as though poured full of molten ead. Wildly he clawed for the gun he had thrust inside his shirt. But the stretch-. ing of his body as it swung by the neck pulled his shirt tail out of his pants. The gun eluded his fingers, slipped to the hardpan. He swung like a rock on a string, be- gan to strangle. Gomichbooks (EO) preg (e 2Py : way ’ : 7 aA SW ay At s* >