Action-Packed Western Magazine, Vol. 3, No. 2 — page 59: what you’re looking at

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

THE SECRET OF FOX RANGE again. “In turn though, Tm Margaret Randolph. Won’t that be enough?” “No,” Bart told her, decisively. _“Ain’t a snoopy cuss, p’tickler, but ’m hell-bent—I mean dead set—on gettin’ a lot better acquainted than jus’ know- in’ y’ur name. “No hurry, though. Take plenty time—say ten or fifteen seconts—then tell me how come a girl like you beds down on a place like Fox’s.” “I might answer that,” she consid- ered, “if you would first answer a ques- tion for me—answer it truly and frank- ly.” “Shoot.” “Well, then, you were going through this country, so you told Fox the other night. Now I find you still here. What caused you to change your mind?” ‘Got whanged on th’ head an’ thrown In jail,” Bart evaded, commencing to shuffle his feet uneasily again. She kept her eyes on his. “But you’re out of jail now. What’s holding you here???’ “Well, after that tryin’ experience, I wanted to kinda mess aroun’ a while an’ get my arms an’ legs stretched.” “And your neck, too? Fox won’t hesi- tate to hang you, if he doesn’t shoot you on sight, and you know it. “You may as well tell me the truth.” Bart tramped up and down in one place and commenced to sweat. “Well, then, if your bound to haze me into a corner, I ain’t gonna lie to you— couldn’t anyway, if I tried. “T stayed here, an’ I’m stayin’ here cause I know you don’t b’long on this place, an’ wouldn’t stick here if Fox didn’t have you snubbed up some way.” she shook her blonde head soberly. “I was afraid so.” = “I’m nothin’ to be ’fraid of,” Bart assured her, pretending to misunder- stand. “’Course I don’t wear clothes- pun coats an’ have ribbon on the seams -oimypants,an—" “Nonsense,” she chided. “You know _ Ihadn’t flagged yuh, yuh’d got ketched, 59 perfectly well what I mean. I can’t let you walk straight into a desperate sit- uation on my account, and—” : Bart grinned happily. “Oh, is that _ all? Then s’pose we change th’ subject an’ you go "head an’ tell me—” she cast a startled look past him then clutched his sleeve and tugged lightly, at the same time pointing across the branch. “S-h-h! There’s someone over there! I think he sees us!” BAkt SHOVED the girl back of the pine and fell to his hands and knees peering out through the bushes. Al- most instantly he rose. “It’s all hunky- dory; that’s my pardner.” “He’s waving at you,” she whis- pered, excitedly, stooping to send an electric thrill through his body by clutching his sleeve again. “Stay hid,” he cautioned, as he saw old Speck duck back of a boulder, after waving his hand warningly. Hard- ly had he spoken when Abelson and two other men rode past, stopping fifty yards off, where the jumble of tracks ended. Abelson and the man called Bill dismounted and scrambled up the rocky slope. Abelson carried a kerosene can, and Bill had what appeared to be a basket of lunch. The third man turned back along the branch, leading their horses. “T know it,” Bart muttered, more to himself than to her. “Them tracks in that soft sand shows that them hosses often carries men up here an’ goes back unrid. Sometimes they come up light an’ go back loaded—especially them mules. | - “What for, I dunno. But here comes Speck; mebbe he can help figure it.” Speck crossed and stalked up to where they stood. Dropping the butt of his scarred rifle to the ground, he crossed his gnarled hands over the muz- zie and glared reprovingly at Bart. “Been asleep?” he wanted to know. “If shore as sunrise.” Eboo com cS (©)