15 Western Short Stories — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

by JOE CHADWICK, JR. LD MATT WEBB took off ()e mackinaw and hung it on the peg beside his rifle. The cabin was cold and he reached to a pocket and took out a match. He lit the candle that stood on the table, then before the match could burn out, he touched it to the dried leaves in the fireplace. He watched the flames lick up and attack the kindling. It had been another wasted day. He’d been grubbing with pan and rocker since the first light of dawn. It had been all in vain and he’d come back to the shack empty-handed as usual. The day had been like all the rest, except for the visitor he’d had around noon. He’d just sat down to rest and eat the last of his jerky when Sheriff Collins rode up. This was the first man he'd seen in two weeks. The lawman had been looking for a murder- er just escaped from jail while being held for trial —fJake Durango, a notori- ous drygulcher. Matt Webb had never run into him, but he’d heard plenty about him. “If he should show up, you keep out of his way,” Collins said, talking in the way folks did to kids—or to oldtimers. “He'd kill for no reason at all. He's unarmed and afoot, but still more than a match for most men. If he comes into these hills, you let me know. There’s a bounty on him. Two hundred and fifty dollars. It'll be yours if you turn him in.” The sheriff rode off. Matt had laughed to him- self. The sheriff had been carrying a rifle and two revolvers. If the convict The wari was dangerous, all right, | But he thought old Matt had ay were unarmed, the sheriff was cer- tainly seeing to it that he had the ad- vantage. During the afternoon, sweating at his diggings, Matt forgot the inci- dent. The man, if afoot and unarmed, was really loco if he headed for this rough country, hed told himself. There was very little likelihood of seeing him around here. Matt went to the shelf where he kept his provisions. There wasn't much there to choose from. His stock of food was getting low. In a few days he would have to make the trip down to the town and try to replen- ish it somehow—get a grubstake, he hoped. The prospector put some beans in a pot, added water and hung it over the fire. He made coffee and then saw that the fire was beginning to go out. He poked at it with the toe of his boot. The fire flared up for a brief second, then died down again. It would take more wood. He went out and around the side of the cabin. It was beginning to grow dark. He loaded his arms with enough logs to last the night and turned around. good claim... The wood cracked against Durango's face, unatag him! Ts " Ginook CO