Fifteen Western Tales, January 1953 — page 72: what you’re looking at

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

72 FIFTEEN WESTERN TALES wants leadership. If he hadn’t joined the train late, he’d have objected to your being elected captain. He wants no sham titles. He wants leadership, power. You see?” He shrugged. “Did you know—it’s said that—” she whispered, bit her lip, added, “You won’t be angry, Bill?” “What d’you mean?” “It’s said that Mr. Kalder started the rockslide that broke up the men hauling on the rope. It was just behind his place on the rope that it started. You see—don’t say any- thing, the person who told me is an old gossip—”’ “Why, that--that—” he began to bellow. “It’s just talk!” she cried. ‘Maybe it wasn’t that—maybe your pulley arrange- ment wasn’t good enough, Bill. Maybe it just didn’t work—maybe it’s your fault after all!” He rose, flaming with anger at Kalder, and now turning it suddenly on her. He bit back his retort, and pounded angrily away. ‘“Clodfoot sodbusters!” he swore to him- self. N THE morning, he was up before dawn, and strode up the side of the mountain to where the pulley was still chained to the rock outcropping. There, he watched the gray waves of dawn break over the hills. By God, he thought, if only I’d taken off with my own wagons, alone. We could have run to the north crossing and made it for sure. We got better horses and wagons— and men, too. He swore and picked up a rock. He hurled it angrily down the slope. dt struck a boul- der and bounced out into space. For a second it was silhouetted against the hulking black cloud the new light was beginning to out- line and then arced to earth. Now the men were coming up. Walking sluggishly, mistrusting: Their hearts and guts wouldn’t be in the job ahead. But Bill Shawn tried his best. As the first man came within hearing distance, he bellowed, “Where you headed for, friend?” “Oregon!” the man yelled back. “Oregon?” Bill Shawn cried mack, “Where in blazes is that?” “Over the hill, friend! "athe man panted. Bill bellowed, “Oregon!” again, and they all took it up until it rang down the line of ant-like struggling men. Their figures jerked as they climbed, lively now and clawing away at this mountain they meant to con- quer. Those on the lower slopes were running ‘up toward the figure of the red-haired man with his legs wide apart, braced firmly as the mountain itself. Bill Shawn boomed, ‘“Oregon’s movin’ west faster’n you are!” He took the long rope now and poked it through the pulley. He kicked the pulley and the chain, and was reassured by the heavy clanking of iron. He kicked the chain all the way around, for a faint suspicion lurked in his mind that someone might have tampered with it. An evil suspicion, but it floated in his mind. He thought, a man like Kalder trying to work a whole train of people for his own good, had made him wary. Even thinking such thoughts made him shiver with fury. It was a long wait. Hisenerves tingled with impatience. They came so slowly, in spite of the echoing cries of “Oregon!” The polers, careful now, took their posts. The men who’d heave on the spokes assembled. The rest climbed up the steep slope to where Bill Shawn stood with the end of the heavy rope clutched in his hands. He walked it down to them when they had gathered, and they swarmed over the loose end until they looked like a swarm of bees on a dead limb. Soon the rope was lost among them. Shawn went down, set his wheel men in position and checked the tie of the rope to. the wagon doubletree. He glanced once at the pine tree and the wagon wrecked the previous afternoon. Then returned to the rope and bellowed, ‘Anybody know what's across the hill?” There was a reply, but quicker than he’d expected, and different. It was a single man’s voice, ‘‘Hell’s across that hill!” He looked up. Standing on the rock to which the chain was attached, was _ Joel Kalder. “It’s going to rain soon, you better get down the hill—before you can’t!” he cried down to them. “Look at those clouds!” He pointed a long finger up at the sky. And they all felt the murkiness of rain wind washing over them and saw it in the Cane of his long-tailed coat. He cried now, “I'll not have you all killed on this crazy venture! There’s an easy way to cross the Divide, and we can easily make it before snow. Why tear our- (Continued on tage 108) COmiclbooks C© inn