The Frontier, May 1926 — page 69: what you’re looking at

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

SS NN ge Wallet CHAPAPEJOS By ANTHONY M. RUD Author of “Smoke’’, “‘Gila Joe’, etc. 4 -\ \ lt was mocking Fate that decreed that Toi-Y abe Tolman, ex-outlaw but now law-abiding prospector, should come face to face with the one man who could identify him to the sheriff—and that that man should be {aj Maddox, in whose evil brain hate and vengeance were ever ready to seize the slightest opportunity for fresh plotting. I \ NE man squatted on his heels before the Squeejaw saloon at Hartnett, and rolled brown paper cigar- ettes. In front of the Cactus Spine, two false-fronted frame buildings farther down the dusty street, a heavy-bodied counter- part of the idler lounged with bowed, muscle-bound legs thrust out in a con- cave-sided V on the shaded sand. He likewise rolled and smoked brown pa- per cigarettes. Neither seemed to notice the other. Yet they had passed on_ horseback, warily. ‘They knew each other only too well. Jf Toi-Yabe Tolman, the tall, desert-lean prospector who hun- kered as he smoked, had guessed Haj Maddox was in town, the meeting would not have occurred. He hated Maddox, and despised him. Likewise he feared Maddox, as one may fear a rattler in his blanket. Haj Maddox, an eighth-blood Pima, his father a Greek peddler with asthma —incidentally, named Socopoulos— was a hog-bodied, loose-mouthed, swarthy individual with black, close- set eyes, He had used many names for A + 45 \ J many crimes, usually of the petty or sneaking variety. Sometimes of a sort even less admirable. Unfortunately once the leader of the Silver Peak gang of stage robbers, of which notori- ous organization Toi-Yabe had been a lieutenant, had used Maddox as a go- between. Just once. That had been enough. Even the flint-eyed leader of those out- laws, the ex-gambler, Cold Deck Diehl, lost control of himself and beat to a bruised pulp that apish, greasy thing in human form. And Diehl, who had learned boxing in the East, broke one of his valuable gambler’s hands on the fellow. Toi-Yabe thought it all over. His obvious move was to walk over, pick a quarrel, and shoot the bulky enemy full of holes. Then the world would be better off—and Toi-Yabe Tolman, owner now of a promising proved up claim inside the first ridge of the Red Chalk range, would not have the con- stant worry of a sheriff possibly on his trail. Over in Esmeralda—for what he had been careful to make seem good and sufficient reason—they thought him dead. They even had paid the re- ward to the individual who had come upon a certain body, and some of Toi- Yabe’s undoubted possessions, at Gol- man’s Well in the Corduroy Hills, 59 But Haj Maddox had started in gen- uine surprise and recognition. He grinned loosely, grunted a hail—unan- swered. Then he looked back steadily, a set, sneering hate and triumph in his black eyes and puffy mouth. Toi- Yabe Tolman! Two thousand dollars walking around loose, provided at Sil- ver Peak they’d pay the reward again. Probably they wouldn’t. Anyway, certain plans just taking shape in the cunning mind of Haj—unspeakable things, they were—might easily fit themselves well to the presence of a fugitive outlaw. Whenever Haj be- came daring, it was because he saw his way clear to make another seem guilty of his crime. Once in New Mexico a man was hanged—but that is another story, better forgotten by men who like to believe justice and the law synony- mous. Toi-Yabe arose, snapped away his cigarette, turned and strode swiftly toward the Cactus Spine saloon. Thumbs hitched in his belt, hands ready for the deadly swoop and draw of .445, he came straight to Haj Mad- dox. The latter squirmed, but did not dare attempt to get to his feet. His black irised eyes showed like bull’s- eyes in discs of white. “Yuh recognized me,” said Toi- Yabe in a low, even tone. “Well, I’m Gomicbooksacom