Action-Packed Western Magazine, Vol. 3, No. 2 — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

30 ) ACTION-PACKED WESTERN steamboat, Lucy caught his arm. “Are you crazy, Steve? Shell blew up before you get there!” Steve tried to shake her hand loose, but she clung to him, The ruddy light from the burning steamboat played across her face. Tears streaked her cheeks. “Why are you risking your life, Steve...to save her?” HE DIDN’T answer. He pushed her away and dropped down _to the boat. He grabbed up the oars, but then Mike O’Shean’s grease smeared face appeared over the railing. “Wait for me you blasted son,” the engineer swore. “You’re always wantin’ to run off without me when there’s fun to be had!” O’Shean dropped into the boat with him. They took up the oars and pro- pelled the small boat across the river to the badly O’Shean whistled. “May. the good Saints preserve us when them boilers hit the water!” Up on the hurricane deck of the burning vessel, a figure appeared with a rifle. He leveled the gun and water spewed up a few feet from their oars. O’Shean let out a string of curses. “From the looks of that one, he’s that Howard Martin Miss Lucy spoke about. Plumb out of his head he is, because he didn’t get them furs.” Steve drew his revolver. He aimed as best he could in the rocking boat and fired once. The figure on the hurricane deck stiffened. The rifle slid out of his hands and he rolled over the railing, falling into the water below. It was the end of a man who tried to grab a king’s ransom in furs that rightfully belonged to his late partner’s daughter... They touched the sinking vessel. “You stay in the boat,” Steve ordered. “Keep her close by.” : He elimbed up on the deck of the Texas Star. Then he ran up to the hurricane and looked through glassed windows into the cabins, searching for Emily T stour. listing Texas Star.- Finally, in a cabin amidships, he saw her huddled on the floor, covering her face with her hands and sobbing hysterically. He tried to open her cabin door, but it was locked. Out of her mind with fear, the girl had run into the cabin and locked the door. Now, no matter how he beat on the door, he could not make her open it. He looked down. The big boat was even lower in the water. Those boilers were going any minute. He braced himself and kicked at the door as hard as he could. After the second kick, the lock splintered. He threw the door open and went in after the dark-haired girl. In the cabin, he picked her up and threw her over one shoulder. Still hysterical, she beat at his back and kicked her Jong legs wildly. Steve carried her to the deck railing. He shouted to Mike O’Shean below, and then threw the girl wriggling and screaming overboard. He watched to see that O’Shean fished her out of the water then he yelled, “Get her back to the Lucy Furman, Mike!” He went up the companionway to the texas deck, three steps at a time. But half way up, he stopped. Cass Rolf stood at the top of the steps with a whiskey bottle in his hand. He was three quarters drunk. He tilted the bottle, drained its remaining contents, and laughed at Steve. “So you’ve come to settle an old account, eh, boy?” He laughed again, and threw the bottle at Steve. He ducked, but too late. It caught him on the forehead, and knocked him down to the hurricane deck. Through — a haze, he saw Rolf coming down the steps. He saw the man leap, and he knew the pilot’s heels were aimed at. his chest. In the nick of time, he rolled and felt the deck shudder as Cass struck it, inches away. “TEVE SCRAMBLED to his feet. “* Blood was running down. bi from the cut on his Soi Uhea e@mec nisven 3s ricaw eoks co i ever