Action-Packed Western Magazine, Vol. 3, No. 2 — page 45: what you’re looking at

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

THE SECRET OF FOX RANGE ter, hit back to that camp an’ you'll find me thereabouts. That'll be one place they won’t be lookin’ te find us.” “How do you expect to bust fence any quicker’n I do?” “ don’t.” : “But you said—” “What I mean is that Dll walk out In daylight, free an’ unhindered. If you get out a-tall, you'll be lucky, an’ itll be a night job at that.” — “But it was you who promoted that beef.” 7 “Veah, but it was you who shot up Fox’s house. If you’d heared ’im hol- ler ’bout that when he comes rammin’ into our camp las’ night, you’d know what I mean. Anyway, you chaw that beef. Hannon an’ Fox both knows that.” “Well, lace me a smoke, then keep a talkin’,’ Bart requested, unable to understand Speck, but feeling some- how, that he knew what he was talk- ing about. Speck made and lighted a cigaret for his cellmate, then braced him into a more comfortable position with some blankets and gossiped on: “As I was sayin’, Hannon’s a good feller. Needn’t worry "bout him gettin’ snorky.” “How long’s he been sheriff?” re a “But he said he was, - What'd he wanta lie for?” - “Ble didn’t lie.” “But if he ain’t sheriff an’ says he 2? Bart sighed heavily and settled back on his blankets. “Keep makin’ words an’ spittin’ ’em out. Mebbe I can line ’em up an’ make ’em make sense, now is— that my head’s commencin’ to ‘work — right.” “In a way, Haanon’ s sheriff; in a way, he ain’t,” the old plainsman eluci- dated, after ‘smoking thoughtfully for a while. “He ain’t never been ‘lected - gince the sheriff was ‘killed, five year ago. | ~ “You see, Fox owns th’ board of su- — pervisors, body an’ britches. = ‘pointed Hannon ’cause Fox told ’em te. They ain’t been no ‘lection sirce— ‘cause Fox don’t want none.” “But th’ other fellers—ranchers an’ town folks. How come they don’t— “They don’t get ringy none. You see, Fox pays Hannon outa his own pocket, an’ that’s a object. It’s a dinky littl county, with no big spreads in it. Th’ little ranchers hates to dig up taxes, an’ are glad to Jet Fox pay off. Also, Hannon don’t do nobody any harm. Right now though, they’s some talk of a ‘lection, Hannon’s some uneasy; people have commenced to talk. They call that place out there th’ Fox’s den.” “But what makes Fox want to own a sheriff?” Speck looked thoughtfully at the grimy ceiling for a time, then rose to take a turn about the narrow room. Finally he returned to look his fellow prisoner over critically. “Shore you're head’s capable of corrallin’ some big, hard facts, Son?” “Veh. PP) “Awright. We better git some coffee first, though. It’s a long story I gotta tell you before you'll understand why Fox needs a hand-made sheriff.” Speck caught up a tin wash basin from a shelf by the head of the bunk and commenced beating against the bars with it. Tom Worden came scowl- ing in almost at once, and left again with an order for bacon and potatoes for Speck, soup and crackers for Bart. and coffee for both of them. With the deputy looking on, they breakfasted almost in silence. After he had gathered up the clutter of empty ishes and gone, the two lighted fresh smokes and renewed their confab. ¢ CP-JARRY STANLEY. done th’ sheriffin’ for this county, five years ago, * Speck related. “He was a nice kid. Everybody said so. And he was ‘lected, all fair an’ reg’lur. “Stanley. lived in a bachelor shack almost on th’ -=comic bee! KS..GO 45