Western Story Magazine, May 12, 1934 — page 100: what you’re looking at

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

98 Street & Smith’s Western Story Magazine answer for that. stand that, I guess.” “Seared, ain't you?” Bloom sneered, in an effort to play on Jerry as those men had played on him. Jerry heard a rising note of con- fidence and resolution in Bloom’s tone. He was glad it was there. He and Bloom were on equal terms now. He asked no more. If he could not make this thief and mur- derer pay for the killing of Shorty Flynn, he would be satisfied to drift out into the beyond, to be blasted out, for that matter. The hand which would presently drag his gun was steady and dry “I ain’t scared, Bloom,” he said quietly. “Well, gimme a gun.” : “Not one of my guns. We'll pick up yours out on the flat.” ERRY started his horse. Bloom followed him, and Parks fol- lowed Bloom. When they came to the spot at which Jerry had dropped Bloom’s gun, he told Bloom to dismount, pick it up, and put. it into his holster. Bloom dismounted and slowly stooped. He picked up the gun, his back to Jerry. He stood with the gun in his hands. Then Jerry saw his elbows move. “IT got a gun on you, Bloom,” Jerry said. “Don’t try anything.” Bloom scowled over his shoulder. “I gotta make sure there ain’t no ~sand in it, ain’t 1?” he asked. Though he spoke low, Jerry heard a fine tremor in his voice, and he saw that he was sweating. He had no fat. That sweat had been wrung out of fairly dry tissues. Wrung out by fear, Jerry believed. “Bloom,” Jerry said, “I’m sorry for you. [Tm sorry I gotta do this to you. But it’s the way of the land, you know.” Bloom merely cursed him vio- You can under- . halt. lently. Jerry was no longer unsure of the outcome. His heart was a little heavy as Bloom holstered the gun and remounted. Then he re- membered folding Shorty Flynn’s hands on Shorty’s breast, and he grew grim. It was a necessary job, a job to be got over as quickly as possible. They rode for a little way farther. Jerry was watching Bloom closely. He saw that Bloom was bent in his saddle, his feet pushed hard into his stirrups. Jerry felt something strange in the man, a kind of ex- pectancy. He dropped his hand to the butt of one of his guns. A moment later Parks called a The old man’s voice, Jerry heard, was somewhat uncertain. Then it dawned upon Jerry that this was a pretty difficult job for Parks. There was always a chance that either man would die in an en- counter like this. If Parks had to inform Jerry’s father that Jerry had been killed right at the outset, it’d be pretty tough. While Jerry let these thoughts flit through his brain without permit- ting them to disturb him, he had continued to keep his eyes on Bloom. He saw Bloom suddenly drop his hand to his gun butt. The gun was drawn as swiftly as Jerry had ever seen a gun drawn. In the same in- stant Bloom came about in his saddle, expecting, Jerry supposed, to find Jerry off his guard. At Bloom’s turning movement Jerry cried out. “Bloom, no! I got you covered. Bloom es . The explosion of Bloom’s gun was his answer. His own gun was leveled at Bloom. Bloom did not immediately fire again. Jerry could see his twisted features, shining from sweat, could see his hot, wild eyes. And he could see the mouz7le ot.