Western Story Magazine, May 12, 1934 — page 115: what you’re looking at

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

The Barking Dog — dark store Tyson mounted his own horse. “You're goin’ to Virlee’s house, Tyson?” Jerry asked. “i you don't stop me.’ “YT ain’t stoppin’ you. I guess Virlee belongs to you. Id like to see him live a little longer account o King, but it don’t much matter. Other men know who killed King.” ~— “T ean’t let Virlee go on livin’.” “Virlee had his father killed— well, in a way,’ Jerry told the punchers. ‘““Nobody’s comin’ outta that place yet,” a puncher, who had been looking down the street, said, “but you can’t tell how long they’ll believe we’re outside. We better work fast.” Tyson sent his spurred horse out into the street.. The riders were sufficiently distant from Virlee’s place so that the horses would not be heard. The men rode rapidly till Tyson turned in at a house. He and the others flung themselves down and went up to the front door. “Better go kinda easy now, fella,” a puncher advised. They stood and listened. The _ sound of a woman singing in a low voice came to them. Tyson put out a hand and pressed the latch. The singing continued and grew louder when Tyson began slowly to push the door ajar. When it was suff- ciently ajar so that the men could see into the room, they caught sight of a woman’s light, bright hair as it rose above the top of a rocking- chair. With Jerry behind him, Tyson stepped up on the threshold. No one else was in the room. The woman must have felt a stir of air about her head, for she looked around and then sprang swiftly to her feet. Her bright hair was her only claim to beauty. She was stout and sallow. Her fright was great. WS—8B 113 As she stood there staring, a door ~ behind her was opened, and another woman appeared in the doorway. As some such women were, she was pretty. In fact, she had a kind of dark, wild beauty. Her eyes were big and brown, and an abundance of brown hair was wound around her head in braids. “What do you want?” she asked sharply. “Didn’t mean to disturb you, 'ma/’am,” Tyson said. This was only an imitation of a home, but to Tyson any kind of home was some kind of home. ~ “We're lookin’ for Virlee,” he added. “Virlee isn’t here,’ the dark woman said. “On’y me an’ the housekeeper is here.” “Ma'am, excuse me,” “I gotta look.” “You ain’t goin’ to prowl through my house!” “You’re Mrs. Virlee, ain’t you?” “I’m Mrs. Virlee, yes. Why, you blockhead, you delivered a letter to me under that name once.” “TI remember now,” Tyson said. - “Well, ma’am, I’m lookin’ for your husband. I gotta go through your house. Take me on’y a minute.” “Don’t you lift a foot!” “Yes, ma’am, I gotta.” E advanced into the room. Jerry followed him. This was rotten business, but Jerry knew that Tyson had to find Virlee to-night if he could. To- morrow he might think too hard of his wife and be turned aside. Even in Virlee’s place, he had spoken of his wife. His rage had been com- pounded partly of hatred of Virlee and partly of regret that he had had to run away from his wife. Several of the punchers stepped into the room. Glancing through said Tyson. GomiGcbooksacom