2 Gun Western, May 1957 — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

28 2-GUN WESTERN and started his boat on its return trip. “Couldn’t rightly say, Sheriff. All passengers look alike to me.” Though irritated by his evasiveness, Baxter guessed the reason for it and realized the futility of questioning him further. Norden was afraid of a reprisal. That he knew both Scan- lon. and Madden by sight, Baxter was certain, and his evasion was proof positive that these were the two riders ahead. _ The ferryboat touched the other side and Norden held it against the bank with his pole. The sheriff tossed him half a dollar and disembarked with his prisoner. But he didn’t pro- ceed any farther than the bank. More clearly than ever, he realized what a rash act he was attempting. Whether he tried it by day or night, he would never get through Pinion Pass alive. At the same time, he couldn’t stay here indefinitely. No sense wait- -ing on this little used route for oth- er riders to come along whom he might deputize. Nor was there any way for him to request help from Hassayampa. If only there were some other route across the Sawtooth Range, some old Indian trail, some forgotten cattle pass— His speculations ended abruptly. In his dilemma he had been glancing absently about him. Quite by chance, his gaze fell upon an object tied to a small boulder at the water’s edge, a short distance below the ferryboat— an old skiff which Jake Norden evi- dently used for fishing and other personal business. He caught his breath sharply. A strange tingle ran up and down his spine, Yes, there was another route to -Hassayampa, a route that wasn’t as short as the one through Pinion Pass, but one where no gunmen were like- ly to be waiting—Coyote River. His glance flashed down the length of it to the entrance of Coyote Canyon, where in fancy he could see it fling- ing itself in a smother of foam across its bed of boulders, He MOISTENED his dried lips, could feel his heart-beat quick- ening. The idea seemed like madness. Not more than three or four men had made the trip through Coyote Can- yon and two of these had been on the staff of a scientific magazine, equipped with an unsinkable boat, life preservers and other safety gear. He would have nothing but a frail, fourteen-foot skiff. He turned his gaze up to Pinion Pass again, comparing the hazards of that route with the one through Coy- ote Canyon. And realized grimly that there was no comparison. With faith and courage and luck, he stood a chance of winning through the can- yon, But no power within or outside himself could bring him through the pass, Tight-lipped, he turned upon the ferryman. “How much for your old skiff, Norden?” Norden looked at him wondering- ly, shook his head. “It ain’t fer sale, Sheriff. Why?” “I’m commandeering it then,” Bax- ter told him. “We're not returning to Hassayampa through the pass. We're leaving our horses here and taking to the river.” The two men stared at him incred- ulously, the face of Jake Norden re- vealing a startled interest, that of Toad Williams open fear. “You ain’t serious, Sheriff,” Norden said. “You’d be wrecked before you was half way through the canyon. An’ you can’t swim in water like that.” “I can’t swim inany kind o’ water,” Toad Williams protested. “An’ I ain’t commmittin’ suicide for nobody. You can count me out.” The sheriff dismounted and strode over to the other’s horse. “You’re my prisoner, Williams,” ‘he said tersely. “My job is to get you to the county jail at Hassayampa, and I aim to do it. Just how I do it won’t make any difference, and whether I bring you in dead or alive won’t make much difference, either. Remember, I can always shoot you for resisting ar- rest. Get down out o’ that saddle.” Toad Williams got down awk- wardly because of his manacled hands, but by no means subdued. Terror seemed to lend him a certain defi- ance. “Your job is to give me safe conduct to Hassayampa,” he charged. “You got no right to risk my life, just ‘cause you’re afraid for aie r own CONMICWVOOKSaCOlnnl