Western Story Magazine, May 12, 1934 — page 60: what you’re looking at

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

Ss 58 Street & Smith’s Western Story Magazine “Aw, don’t feel bad about it, kid. The Old Man’s just got a mad on. He’ll get over it. You go back in four, five days and he’ll never know he fired you.” Bascom shook his head and asked absently: “What you packin’ all that hardware for?” The eyes of Duke Jones narrowed. — do you know what I’m pack- iy ee “See it,” was the reply. “You got a gun under your arm and one in your belt, besides that cannon on your hip.” Duke swore softly. “You’re, an observin’ cuss. A lotta fellers has ‘seen me since I started for here, and I'd gamble that none of ’em suspi- cioned that I was wearin’ more’n one pistol. You see, I’m also wearin’ close to four thousand in gold and paper.” Bascom’s face lighted. “Say! You ain’t bringin’ up Schraber’s money from Charley Elden, are your” “None but,’ Duke _ returned. “Charley has had the deuce’s own time collectin’ for that stuff o Schraber’s he sold down there. It come in in driblets, mostly coin; and since their bank went bust, he had to send it as was. So I hustled me an arsenal and told Charley Id see it through.” “I’m sure glad it’s come,” said Bascom. ‘‘The Old Man’s been get- tin’ a darn tough break lately. He was startin’ down-country to-mor- row to see about an extension on his loan.” Duke Jones rubbed a_ stubbled chin thoughtfully. “You’re a rum bird. A guy up and busts you, and you're tickled pink when you hear he’s had a little luck.” Bascom answered simply: “TI couldn’t be sore at Lew Schraber.” Duke looked at him, then turned -I gotta go right on. away his eyes, thinking it was good to know that there were still clean things in the world. Presently he sald: “TY kinda wish you was back on that ranch, kid.” “Well, I can’t stop there to-night. Got a hurry-up message to deliver at the Hastings place. Id feel easier if somebody good and husky was left with Schra- ber and these spondulics.” “You're afraid somebody’ll lift that money? Gosh, Duke, no dan- ger of that in this neck o the woods.” “No? Well, some jasper has been scoutin’ my trail all the way up here. I got two glimpses of him, and I > doubled back and found some tracks. He don’t seem to wanta tackle me, but he’s follerin’ this money,. or [’m a_ blame _ poor guesser.” “No need to worry,’ said Bascom. “The Old Man’s got a good safe.” — “Maybe,” was the dubious an- swer, “but I don’t like the look of things, just the same. I got a hunch that this guy that’s been trailin’ me is in cahoots with some one on the ranch. Oh, sure, it’s all guess, but my guesses has been bull? s-eyes too many times for me to sniff at ‘em. And I don’t hardly like to mention it to the Old Man, because he’s jumpy enough as it is. You wouldn’t consider goin’ back?”’ “T can’t,” said Bascom, thinking of Lafe Hunt. “It’ll be all right, Duke, if you see it into the safe.” “Well, then, so long, and good luck.” Duke rode on. OR another hour Bascom Hk jogged stolidly across the monotonous plain, aiming for a spring in a draw where he could camp that night. . He had unsad-_.