Western Story Magazine, May 12, 1934 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

20 ‘Street & Smith’s Western Story Magazine Dan had seen every face on notices offering rewards for wanted mén. To a man they were a lean, hard lot, with hands amazingly swift and graceful in the handling of ropes and guns, with eyes which betrayed nothing but suspicion and caution, and with legs slightly bowed from a lifetime, brief as some of their spans might be, in the saddle. “You are young,’ Sanchez ob- served, “yet old for one who follows a dangerous life. Or has your life been dangerous?” As the outlaw leader put the query, a stocky man came from the cabin, walked to a position behind Sanchez, and stopped. Sanchez turned so that the man might watch his lips, then he said, ‘You are just in time, El Mudo.” Kl Mudo’s arrival quickened the interest of those gathered about. It looked as if they might have an en- _ tertaining morning should the dumb one decide Dan Stuart was either dangerous to their well-being, or lacked sufficient courage to be in- cluded as one of their number. LICE FORD was watching El Mudo as a bird might watch a snake. Al, sick and ex- hausted from the previous day’s hardships, sank into the nearest chair. Here were gathered two of the most desperate characters in the Southwest, and they were working together, the girl was thinking. And Dan Stuart was thinking Al had not found words to convey the terrible, penetrating force behind El Mudo’s mental probings. The dumb one’s eyes never left Dan’s face. Dan’s eyes were blue, and sometimes there was frost in their depths, but El Mudo’s were something colder than ice. They were hard, glitter- ing, and did not blink or waver. The lids appeared to be glued to the skull. His shoulders were thick and bowed across the back; his chest was deep. El Mudo’s short, powerful arms could literally have torn a man apart. He was unarmed, save for a belt containing seven knives. His breed relied on knives and dark- ness, rather than guns, for offense and defense. The man’s hair was the color of rotting straw, which in itself was unpleasant, but it was his finger nails which caused Alice to recoil. The fingers were short, thick, and filthy, the nails deeply embedded half moons. - Suddenly El Mudo’s_ interest switched from Dan Stuart to Alice Ford. He advanced a step and laid his hand on her arm. The fingers dug into her firm flesh and were withdrawn, leaving round, pink cra- ters on her skin. She started to draw away contemptuously, then re- membered this creature might pre- vent her from aiding Al’s recovery. She remained passive, her calmness willed. 3 E] Mudo bared his teeth in a grin. They were yellow, broken teeth, pro- truding from a thick jaw. His lips moved, but no sound came except a faint hiss and sometimes a whisper. “Say that again,’ Sanchez or- dered. “I didn’t quite get it!” It was then Dan realized both men were lip readers, and though no words came from El] Mudo’s lips, nevertheless words were formed and understood by Sanchez. El Mudo repeated his curious movements, and the outlaw leader smiled. “He says that you'll do, Alice, and you can stay with us.” Sanchez swept off his hat and bowed low. “Calico Hole has the most beautiful outlaw in the Southwest.” “¥’m here to care for Al,” the girl answered. comicbooks.com—