Action-Packed Western Magazine, Vol. 3, No. 2 — page 62: what you’re looking at

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

~ and ensconced ‘nicl i in a little cluster of boulders that clung to the hillside. Immediately the puncher knew that his caution had served him well. For, above him, and not twenty-five yards distant a match cracked and a thin. spiral ef smoke drifted from below the _ spreading boughs of a low-growing juni- r. “Look out man,’ he decided. “Hope ol’ Speck don’t get itchy an’ come rammin’ along an’ get seen.’ Uneasy at the thought, the puncher worked his way back to where the others lay. “Follow me, an’ travel on yur bellies, an’ don’t let your hearts tick too joud, ” he warned them. “Stop when I stop, an’ don’t move till I do, if I don’t stir a hoof till mornin’.” AR crawling back to his former locaton, even more cautiously than before, Bart motioned the others in be- side him. They had just gotten settled, when the guard by the juniper rose, and Bart recognized him as Abelson. He yawned, stretched lazily, then grew suddenly alert, stepping free of the tree to look interestedly toward the branch. The soft padding of hooves sounded down there, and a mumble of voices. Motioning to the others to stick tight, _ Bart peered out cautiously and saw two — unsaddled mules, They stopped at what evidently was their accustomed place and one of them remained with the mules while the other climbed the slope hurriedly. “How’s ever’thing?” he asked, when he came up to where Abel- son stood, “Funkydory, I recken,” Abelson an- swered. ‘“FEh’ boys is ’bout done, so far’s I kin see.’ “They better be,” the newcomer stated. “Fox has got his dander up an’ is drivin’ ever’body hell-bent over at the house. He’s dead set on makin’ a- cleanup t’night, an’ don’t yuh furgit it. “He'll be along over here after a bit, a’ things had better be movin’ plumb slickery.” “Wal, it’s yur meve, right now,” Abelson informed him, crustily. ACTION-PACKED WESTERN — he ter tock te hint and appeared over the ridge. When he called something ahead of him as he went down the opposite slope, Bart knew that they were close to the end of the trail. He had to turn and fairly wrestle Speck down into his place when the excited old plainsman reared up in plain sight of Abelson, who chanced not to be leoking that way. “Play badger, dammit,” Bart hissed into Speck’s ear. “Awright,” Speck whispered back, chewing nervously on the enormous quid he had packed into his hollow cheek. “Tl lay down an’ play dead, right now; but I’m gonna resurrec’ my- oe some vigorous an’ plumb tenacious j = 2D “Sh-h-h!” Bart shook a warning fist in Speck’s freckled face, then rose to hands and knees. He shook his yellow head in surprise when, one after the other, five men appeared from the far side of the ridge, each staggering be- neath the weight of a small, but ap- parently heavy, sack. They stepped on the crest to recover their breath, then went down to the creek, where one of them remained with the mule-tender, the other four retracing their steps. “Hustle some,” Abelson prompted as they passed his station. They hastened out of sight over the ridge, and Bart could hear them scrambling down the _ other side. Meanwhile, the two men down in the branch had commenced lashing the sacks together in pairs and swinging them across the mules’ backs. Soon the four reappeared with fresh burdens, and the work went swiftly on. Bart watched and wondered mightily. The sacks seemed to be heavy, and he surmised that they must be precieus -or Fox would not go to so much troule to secure them. There could not be that much gold in the world; mm, what else could it be? JECRUITING in the timber i. that berdered the drain, the shad-— ows crept up the slope, purpling the _ micboo (©) (E(@)