2-Gun Western, November 1955 — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

22 2-GUN WESTERN and it had as many as ten braves in it, “Ain’t no use waiting, Pappy.” “How 2” “I say hain’t no use loitering. They’s another boat load of ’em wait- ing up the river.” “The divil ye say.” Long Sam did not wait for the order to fire. Seconds now were too pre- cious to waste. He let fly with the shooting iron that toted a slug the size of a buckeye, that Pappy had done notable carnage with. It was loaded with a round ball, not like the Mine ball, and wadded it with a double charge of powder. Pappy had worked out the logistics of it him- self. At the instant of explosion the soft ball mushroomed and filled the barrel. When it issued it was twirl- ing at great speed, and when it hit, it did considerable damage. Pappy emitted a _ blood-curdling groan. “You missed him, bub!” Which Long Sam had. But the Yank, all his battle blood roiled by the unfinished fight he’d had with an old enemy, now had something he could take out his hate on. His shot knocked the Indian in the stern into the river. Then up out of the willow wood rose the hidden braves. They poured a deadly fire into the ferryboat. Long Sam saw the bullets splinter through the bedstead over his head. The redskins hadn’t had too much time to take aim. But they laid out a | a rear mule and crippled one of the lead mules, and the beasts plunged. The treadmill brute reared, tried to jump out of his stall, got his leg hung in the planks, and plunged about, whinnying piteously. “Gimme that thar weepin!” Pappy snarled. : He snatched it from his son’s hand. He reloaded with the skill of an an- cient warrior. He knew how to use a wagon for cover. The Yankee knew what he was doing, too. He muttered, “Been laying all my time to kill mea mess of Injuns.” Long Sam was engaged in grabbing the bridles of the snorting, plunging mules and keeping them from drag- ging wagon, cargo, old woman and squealing sow and pigs into the river. It was a man’s-sized chore. But he watched the-bullboat, and the warrior canoe a quarter mile up the river. JS BULLBOAT was sinking. The Indians became aware of their dis lemma as the Yank knocked Cody’s brains out. There now were six of them. Nothing was left but to swim. Some clung to the boat which, as soon as they got out of it, still floated. Pappy took one neatly through the head. The Yank took another neatly the same way. You could count ’em off—four now, and they were agitated like wasps when you stick a flame into their nest. They hadn’t quite figured on this. To them it looked like two old men, an old woman, a young squirt of a boy, and a scared girl. Now they were try- ing to save their guns, unable to shoot now they were in the river, and at the same time save their hides. - But reinforcements were moving | swiftly to their relief. “Thar they come, Pappy Sam yelled. "? Long A rifle ball whizzed past his ears. Too close to ease his headache. “Lay low,” he told Betty. With ten fresh ones on hand the redskins might man- age to board the ferryboat. Likely they figured the junk on the wagon worth the risk. Some of the trashiest of these emigrants carried gold. No doubt they had also sighted the young girl, Such booty always stirred the braves to their greatest efforts. No use shooting at the canoe, Long Sam realized. It was a log hollowed out with fire and hatchets. You couldn’t sink the thing. Here they came. Knowing what they were going up against, the Indians moved des- perately into the task confronting them. Pappy knocked one down and the Yank knocked one down. TF: .py reloaded and the Yank reloaded and they let fly and now there were seven braves capable of fighting. But the canoe was only a dozen lengths away. The mules were raising cain. Long Sam reached for the scythe blade. The redskins were shooting but it took them time to reload also. They were lying low in the canoe, doing their chores with apt fingers. “Here they come!” Long Sam yelled again and the Indians shot their war canoe right up against the ferryboat. Strangely enough, the old woman on comicbooks.c©