Fifteen Western Tales, March 1954 — page 54: what you’re looking at

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

ce 34 passing through the semi-arid plateau _country of the Arizona territory. The boy held his rifle at trail and began to dog-trot again. His father raced along- side and stopped him. A worried frown clouded his face as Chip heard him say, “There’s nine bucks with the horses. Probably three or four more in the camp. That’s way too many for ts.” Chip. shrugged his shoulders and con- tinued walking the trail. Again his father tried to stop him, labor- ing with the long sentences. “Five to one of us—at least! Let’s circle. down to Fort Whipple and get the soldiers. It’s only a day’s run.” Chip showed surprise at the suggestion. He knew his father always went after the Apaches alone. “Why, you never do that.. You always go by yourself.” Chip looked, questioning, at his father, then across the valley, the direction his stolen horses had been driven. Every line of his lithe, well-muscled frame showed vigor. He was a man before his time. His jaw muscles worked as he cal- culated the risks. “Sure,” agreed his father. “I’ll go alone. but I’m not taking my boy into a camp _ of scalping, tongue-cutting Apaches!” - “You've always said, ‘A man looks after his own, or someone else’ll take over the job.’ ” “That's right, ‘bout a man. You’re only 99 coming seventeen and... . “If I’m big enough to take a contract freighting, I’m old enough to be looking after what belongs to me,” argued Chip. “They’re killers—terrible mean killers.” Chip nodded slowly, agreeing. Then he said, “I’d rather leave my hide on a fence than to spend my life in a coral.”’ Chip felt his father’s appraising eyes going over him. The youth was embar- rassed and inhaled deeply of the cool mor- ning air to relieve the tension. Then he spoke with finality. il te a ee 4 ay, © ee += FIFTEEN WESTERN TALES Seater ee piste ees Fo ae %, ": la int * : < “You've killed plenty of them since they | caught you. That was for what they did to you. Now they’ve done something to me!’ Chip jabbed a thumb into his own chest to emphasize his statement. He saw his understanding. “Yes, but you let me fight the Apaches, boy! I haven’t got much to lose. You couldn’t do any freighting hunkered up in an anthill.” Chip shook his head. “T’ll still need those horses.” His father lifted a hand to Chip’s chin and turned his, head. The youth had to look directly into-his father’s eyes. “Tl take you,” said his father, finally. “Promise me one thing. We do it my way, and no arguments. Remember, they took «me in once, but I’ve been winner every time since.” Chip nodded agreement. “You're boss,” he said solemnly. His father waved his hand. “Hit the traily but keep your eye on me.” Within the next fifteen minutes the spoor of the horses climbed out of the valley and headed due east, toward Sycamore Canyon. just where Chip’s father -had said they would probably make their main camp. S CHIP followed the trail his mind went to the foes ahead. In spite of his anger and the urge that drove him to close father’s eyes “ght with. with horse-stealing Apaches, Chip felt the | chill of fear mount in him the third time since he had awakened. He remembered all too vividly the dramatic scene of his father’s homecoming after his escape from the three torturing Apache bucks. *Too, hi father’s reference to the possibility of his sitting in an anthill had brought back a sharp, burning memory—of a bleak, white skull of a man. Chip had found it in a hill of ants. He’d tried to roll it out with his foot, but it wouldn’t budge. When he had dug down he’d found the body ofva man, Gomicbooks (FE)