Western Story Magazine, May 12, 1934 — page 80: what you’re looking at

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

78 Street & Smith’s Western Story Magazine like that would have business with Dean.” Dean’s expression had been tense at first, but he sneered now. “Inasmuch as the man wasn’t in my office—or in the bank, so far as I know—while Vestry was there,” he said, “it would naturally be hard for Vestry to say what it was that— aroused his suspicions! It’s asking too much of his—imagination!” Travis frowned. “What hap- pened then, Jim?” he asked. “I made a run for the bank as soon as I heard those two shots. A man in the doorway took a shot at me and ducked. I bulged into the bank after him; saw Wilson, in the cashier’s cage, just slippin’ down with a red spot showin’ on his shirt. I unlimbered my guns at the man standin’ in front of the cage, knocked the gun out of his hand. There was a lot of crazy shootin’ for a minute. Then somebody caught me over the head with some- thin’, and I dropped. I rolled back toward Dean’s office and was just gettin’ on my feet again when the office door opened and I saw Dean. I was drawin’ a bead on a jasper over by the vault and I sort of over- looked Dean. I reckon it was him that bent a gun over my head that time! “T must’ve been out for a minute ortwo. They were just leavin’ when I come to, and I follered ‘em out. You know the rest of it. Dm on their tail as they leave town, and they shoot my horse out from under me.” He paused for a moment; shrugged: “Take a look at me, Tom. Do I look like a successful bank robber? Or do I look like I’ve been dragged through a sack o’ cats? Or maybe you think I marked my- self like this!” Travis frowned. “You’re bunged up considerable, Jim,” he admitted. “But [ve seen a man just as bad hurt as you are before now, after a hoss had dropped out from under him! And Dean, here, already told us he batted you over the head with a gun. I reckon your hurts won’t serve you as an alibi, exactly.” ‘“Supposin’ I did get all these scratches when my horse went down.’ Vestry spoke earnestly now, almost pleadingly. “Don’t that prove I wasn’t one of the gang —the fact that they shot back at me? If I was one of ’em, why would they do that?” Travis shook his head. “I ain’t got no proof that they did, Jim,” he said. “Except your word! Maybe your hoss was hit as you rode through town, Jim. There was a lot o’ lead flyin’, about that time. He might’ve run as far as he did be- fore he dropped. And there’s an- other thing: You’re a gun fighter, Jim. One o’ the best. Yet, accord- in’ t’ your yarn, you practically emptied both your guns in that bank lobby, with five targets t’ shoot at, and never downed a man! It ain’t natural! Dean’s story fits a whole lot better. He might’ve shot that many times without scor- in’ a hit, because he ain't a gun- fightin’ man. But you-——” Vestry’s answer was apologetic. “JT was half blind, Tom,” he said. “Comin’ in out of the bright sun- light that way, all I could make out was movin’ shadows, sort of.” He paused as he caught ‘the look of un- : belief in Travis’s eyes. “Your mind’s made up, I see,” he said bit- terly. ‘“There’s no use my talkin’ any more!” E turned, walking slowly H back to the door of the cell from which they had brought him. One of the deputies accompanied him,...a9d.as.they.