Cowboy Short Stories, November 1939 — page 103: what you’re looking at

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

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NASH COMPANY. oe TCINCINNATL CHIC “T9IOSELAL.STREED COWBOY SHORT STORIES (Continued from Page 103) calmly pronounce his death sentence, but he managed to grin. Forbes chuckled down in his throat and reached out to grab the kid’s hands. The kid they called Drifter didn’t have a chance, but he was game for a try, anyway. He threw all of the strength there was left in him into the fist he shot at Forbes’ throat. Forbes took the fist squarely on the larynx. He stopped, and his mouth dropped open. The kid didn’t have time enough to see any more than Forbes gaping and trying to shout and not making a sound before Peterson and Jenkins piled onto him. Peterson and Jenkins were masters at this art of beating a man up. They did a good sound job on Drifter, too. Peter- son planted a number twelve boot in the kid’s stomach, and Jenkins stepped in close, shooting his fists and letting them twist when they struck so that his knuckles tore flesh like a pair of spurs. The kid went down, and he felt hand- cuffs snap around his wrists. He was only half conscious that Forbes was taking a hand, too, kicking him and cursing in a hoarse whisper while he still massaged his injured throat. YMAN took his cigar out of his mouth and grunted. “You're making too much noise. When you get him out to the barn find out what he told Wilkins.” “Yeh, we'll find out all right,” Jenkins affirmed. Groggily, he saw Jenkins go to the back door of the office, look out tnto the alley and motion that everything was clear. Forbes jerked him to his feet and kicked him toward the door. It took Jenkins a few minutes to bring horses around imto the alley. Two men passed the door of the sheriff's office while the kid was slumped there with Forbes standing over him, hold- ing a gun against his back, but neither man paid any attention. The kid reckoned that the people of Halfway had learned long before not to show too much interest in what Forbes and Lyman might be doing. Lyman stood in the doorway of the office, rolling his cigar around in his mouth and watching while the other three loaded Drifter onto a horse and tied his feet in the stirrups. “You coming?” Forbes de- manded of Lyman. Lyman shook his head. “Killing makes me sick, I can’t eat for two or three days 0)(0)) mn S C (C@