Action-Packed Western Magazine, Vol. 3, No. 2 — page 49: what you’re looking at

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

THE SECRET OF FOX RANGE i hell: didn’t you tell us you shet un- branded beef?” “°Cause you didn’t ask me,” Speck told him blandly. “You asked me if it was my beef, an’ I said ‘Yes’, an’ you asked me if I owned any cow or steer n’ I said ‘no’. Them was. th’ facts. _ That critter was antybody’s till I made beef of ’im; then th’ beef was mine. “T reckon when we show that. hide to th’ jury—” “Jury, the devil,” Price sputtered, jamming the cerk into his ink bottle and commencing to gather up his pa- pers. “There'll be no trial, of course. Turn him loose, Hannon. We can’t hold him any longer.” | “Bring out that other rascal.” “He ain’t able. Mebbe you better talk to him where he lies,’’ Hannon sug- gested. “First, though, let’s git rid of this long-talkin’ dew-drinker. Open the outside door, Tom.” Worden obeyed most willingly, but Speck seated himself comfortably at the table and looked at the. sheriff speculatively. ‘“Mebbe you better have my hosses an’ guns brung aroun’ front first. I reckon they’re here some- wheres.” “Guns is in th’ office, an’ hosses is over at th’ feedlot. Tell which is yours an’ Tom’ll go-git ’em.” Bart felt his eyes bulge when Speck said, blandly. “All th’ hosses an’ all th’ guns is mine. I broke that cowboy playin’ seven-up an’ won everything he had, includin’ a first mortgage on his underwear an’ boots.” Hannon turned toward Lyons’ cell. “That right, puncher?” “Ves,” Bart answered, wondering mightily inwardly, but remembering his ‘promise to back what Speck said. _. “Awright,” Hannon said. ‘Git th’ hosses, Tom. I'll fetch th’? guns. C’mon, feller. Yuh kin wait outside as weil’s in here.” Instead of obeying, Speck heaved. : his long back comfortably to leok ruminatingly at the ceiling. “You geezers fetched me — egs to the table-top and leaned - here, an’ I’m commencin’ to like th’ place, ” he announced. “Also, I’m won- derin’ jus’ how toc mence my damage Sui ‘Damage suit?” Hannon repeated, a little uneasily. “Yeah. False arrest and imprison- ment; you know. Seems like I’ve heard that th’ Dakoty law is some strong ‘long them lines. Course, I’d kinda hate to sue you bein’s you got a ‘lection comin’ on; an’ a thing of that kind might tell ag’in’ you. Still an’ yet— “Now, now,’ Hannon broke in, placatingly oe only done my duty as seen it, so—” . “Well, then, mebbe I won’t be too hard on you,” Speck decided. “Jus’ bring me my ‘hosses an’ guns an’ be shore my pack mule’s got such canned goods on ‘im as he had when you grabbed ’im, an’ T’ll—” “Pake mule an’ canned goods?” Hannon yelped. “What th’ hell you - talkin’ ‘bout? You never had no pack mule, nur—” “Well; if you’ve up an’ lost that mule on me, reckon Pll hafta sue you, after all—not for th’ mule, but fur th’ false arrest, an’—” “Thunder an’ lightnin’,”’ Hannon cut in. “Git im a mule outa my bunch, ‘Fom, an’ strap plenty of canned goods on it! I reckon he’s got my tail in a crack on that false arrest stuff.” “T think you’re acting wisely,” Price offered, judiciously, appearing to enjoy the sheriff’s. discomfiture. “I’m really ~ afraid he could make a very good damage case against you.” ‘Listen to that now,” Speck applaud- ed admiringly. “Real legal advice, plumb free gratis, for nothin’ an’ with- out cost. That reminds me, I near for- got that hundred dollars I give you to keep in your safe for me till I got out.” Price's smile departed, and his- cheeks worked nervously. “Hundred dollars? You say you gave me a hun- dred dollars to keep for you until— > Per- “Oh, I see... Hum-m.. plexing situation. -COmic