Action-Packed Western Magazine, Vol. 3, No. 2 — page 55: what you’re looking at

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

| , THE SECRET OF FOX RANGE ~ Thanks” Bart said, extending a | hand which Hannon shook heartily. “Fact is, though, I got a little deal or two to settle fore I quit this range.” ‘An’ if I kin help, call on me,” Han- non promised, then turned back to- ward the saloon. Bart swung up, walking the horse slowly down the dark street and thank- ing the luck that was bringing a full moon slowly over the hill to eastward. In an hour, he had turned the horse at the edge of the broken country ad- jacent to the Fox’s den; in another he was stumbling toward the dim light of a campfire reflected against the over- hanging side of a rugged brown boul- der. — “Hullo, Speck, you lop-eared ol’ he-elephant”; the puncher called. “Hullo, y’urself, you spider-legged tarantula”; came back from under the rocky roof back of the fire. “C’mon in an’ hug yur ol pappy! I knowed you’d make it somehow, but I didn’t ’spect you so soon!”’ “Pm tellin? yuh solemn that I left fur here as soon as I could,” Bart grinned as he stepped into the little circle of light and Speck came to meet him, grotesque figure in his underwear with his trousers in one hand, the other extended. “Stir up th’ fire whilst I cinch on these britches an’ we’ll palaver,”’ Speck enthused. “If my suspicions is k’reckt, you're a outlaw, Son. That bein’ th’ case, I’m a outlaw, too, fur harborin’ you. So we'll both do a little wholesale an’ retail outlawin’, an’ not give a “As a starter, if you’re hungry, I got some damn fine beef that’s jus’ quit ‘wearin’ a big diamond on its left hip— which same is Fox’s brand.” “But that’s stealin-—’scuse me; I mean promotin’.” Bart demurred du- _ "No it ain’t. In war it’s pumb fair to forage off th’ enemy. An’ Son from — $22- — now on out, this is war, you bet a all HE TWO friends— now outlaws—ate bacon and flapjacks in the grey dawn of what promised to be acloudless day. soy Se During the meal, Ge\ ah Bart told Speck aN. about Fox’s visit to Wits.» town, and the ". Biman ree change of sheriffs. Busily inhaling black coffee with a noise somewhat resembling that of a stalled tractor, Speck abstractedly Held the tin cup suspended within inches of his splotched nose. “Can’t wrangle that i-dea,” he said, thoughtfully. “Worden won't last as sheriff, an’ Fox must ‘know it. Seems like Fox is invitin’ a re- bellion on th’ part of th’ votin’ popula- . tion, an’ he ain’t th’ man to do that *thout he’s got some big reason.” “Mebbe he jus’ got on th’ prod an’ lost his head,” Bart suggested, stretch- ing across the ‘‘table” to skid another flapjack onto his tin plate. “Uh-uh,” Speck negatived, decided- ~ Jy. “Fox gets on th’ prod, frequent, but he never loses his head. That long- figgerin’ ranny’s gonna pull off some- thin’ big, an’ he’s gonna need a sheriff that won’t break herd on him, at a pinch. When he picked that ornery Tom Worden he got th’ right man, aw- right.” | “Speakin’ of Worden,” Bart consid- ered, “what are we gonna do if he jumps us some day?” “Fight hell outa him,” Speck an- swered. ‘He’s only a imitation officer, anyway. This here’s a sheriffless coun- ty, till after “lection, so fur’s we're con- sarned. Ain’t shy of him none are you, sone” “Nope. Just wanted to know th’ pro- — $3 gram An’ now what are we going to - do first?” Speck gulped the last of his coffee, — (EC) CS: (©) NiGDoOO