Action-Packed Western Magazine, Vol. 3, No. 2 — page 67: what you’re looking at

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

rere at the bond bi “Th’ sneieebeliied GORE t th’ word out that yuh was dead, ah th town folks helt a funeral fur yuh,” said Speck, still looking mystified. “Veh, I know. They shot th’ face clean off Bill Jinkins, one of them prospector fellers; then they put my clothes on *im an’ planted ? im as me.’ Stanley looked at the star lovingly, then shook the chain till it rattled. “Git this damn thing off me. Yuh’ll find th’ key in Abelson pants pocket. “Gr-r-r! Won’t I feel coltish when I get onhobbled for th’ first time in nigh on five years!” He hugged the rifle and patted its stock caressingly. “An’ won’t we make somebody think he’s a bogged steer, an’ we're a pack of lobos!” “C’mmencin’ as soon’s we get that hobble off you an’ chain Bill up in your place,” Bart decided, fishing a key out of Abelson’s pocket ‘and insert- ing it in the padlock at Stanley’s ankle. “Tf we win this war, we'll come back alter Bill an’ have ’im hung all decent an’ orderly. If we lose, Fox’ll come an’ git im an’ bust ’im in two. Bill’ ll know which in a few hours. » “Mebbe we orter go to town an’ git a posse,” cautious Hannon suggested. “An’ have Fox clean up an’ ramble whilst we're doin’ it—mebbe after killin’ a woman or two,” Bart objected. “But they’ S anyway a dozen of ‘em, an’ Fox is—” 3 “sus: one more feller, an’ we = get A “Flaze yourself over be Bill, an’ get your bracelet on. It shore is be- comin’ to your style of beauty. “Now peel them boots off. They'll. 3 fie pur new sheritf, an’ he needs ‘im!’ jn his shirt sleeves. a a of par } sae of the clearing that surrounded the Fox’s den. Its every iw angle clearly out- lined in the mellow light, the big house looked to be a-bustle with activity. A light glowed in the library, another in the corner room above it. Voices and footsteps sounded within. Once the listening puncher heard Fox’s arrogant, impatient voice delivering an order of some sort: “Let’s hit ’em,”’ Stanley suggested, at Bart’s elbow. ‘“Ho-hum,” the puncher lamented. “Speck was ringy enough, but yuh’re some worse. Fox ain’t give me half as much trouble as yuh two Stanleys. “Hit °em eh? Mebbe we better locate ‘em first.” “Most of ’em’ll be workin’ in that stone shed back of the bunkhouse,’ Stanley said. “They’s a waterpipe back there, an’ they use it to wash out th’ stuff. Let’s hit ’em.” “Mebbe we better wait till I go round-up a posse,” Hannon argued. ‘“Ho-hum,” Bart sighed again. “If I ain’t got me one funny little army. Two bit-champin’ geezers want to go stam- pedin’ in ’thout findin’ th’ lay of th’ land; another long-figgerin’ jasper wants to wait till Fox is outa th’ country. “All three of you squat back of that there hoss trugh whilst I go projectin’ fur a little while.” The two Stanleys grumbled a little, but the three finally obeyed. After see- ing them tucked behind the trough, Bart catfooted to the house and peered into the library. Fox was at his desk rs Ss (©) om Kel axeye)