Western Story Magazine, May 12, 1934 — page 69: what you’re looking at

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

Trail Pardners 67 - retorted. He caught up an ax and headed for the nearest trees which would supply logs of the desired size. UD TUTTLE loafed around, | speculating on a means of bringing the cantankerous old fellows together. Knowing neither would budge an inch from the stand he had taken, Bud appreciated he was attempting next to the im- possible. Hard-rock cut his logs, then walked over to Tabasco with a view to harnessing him to a sled and drawing the logs to the cabin. The mule regarded him with interest. “Whoa, you long-eared skate!” he admonished. “Stand still, or I'll lam you.” “Hey, What're you doin’ with that mule?” Poke advanced in a threatening manner. “T own the upper half of him,” Hard-rock answered, standing his ground and glaring. “I aim to harness that half and work it.” He grinned contemptuously. “Put one over on you, didn’t I?” ‘“Hah—hah! That’s funny,” Poke jeered. “You just thought you did!” I own the legs. Well, you can’t use the upper half without payin’ me plenty for using my half—the legs.” Hard-rock’s jaw fell. ““Why, you double-crossin’ black-hearted a he began. At that moment he backed into Tabasco’s heels, and the next instant was flying through the air. He struck the packed snow with a thud and struggled to his feet. “So you own the legs, eh? Well, the legs damaged me just now, and ['ll sue you. I'll sue you for assault and battery, mental anguish, and—and anticipated profits,” he concluded lamely. Poke threw back his head and roared with laughter. ‘“That’s the funniest thing I ever saw—you in the air.” He slapped his leg and doubled up. | Tabasco, realizing he could not kick Poke, stretched his neck and nipped the seat of his pants. Poke’s laughter ended so abruptly it might have been severed with a knife. “Your mule’s head done that,” he roared. “T’ll have you in court 2 “Just a minute, boys,” Bud Tuttle interrupted. “Can’t you see you're getting nowhere? Now suppose you shake———”.. | A glare from the two sourdoughs silenced him. Poke returned to his half of the cabin, while Hard-rock rigged up a harness, attached it to a light sled, and prepared to haul the logs by hand. Bud returned to the marshal’s office to find Dad Morton and half of the mining camp awaiting him. “What luck, Bud?” they chorused. “None at all,’ Bud grumbled. “Each is packing a chip on his shoul- der, and no matter what a man says, it is the wrong thing.” “Tt’s your big chance to figure something out,” said Dad Morton. “T’]] do my. best,” Bud glumly promised. “You’d better do it quick, then,” Dad urged. “The break-up will be here in a week or so. I want to see them blazing a safe trail into the Iron Mountain country before the chechahcos show up. Otherwise, my office will spend all of its time try- ing to find lost people.” “Bud Tuttle or nobody else can get em together,” a voice remarked as Bud entered the office. “It’s one of the things we’ll have to say is too bad.” Be: reflections were broken by a demanding voice. “Hey, you, Tuttle, when am I goin’ to get my trial? I don’t want to stay in your jail forever) jo aay