Adventure, July 1, 1928 — page 49: what you’re looking at

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

BY ORDER OF BUCK BRADY 43 ‘All right; here’s mine. Take ’em off, boys. We don’t need ’em—now.” The sheriff looked over the guns as he deposited them about his person; he walked out, swinging the hammer in his hand. ‘Don’t that beat hell?” laughed Pete. “T’ll betcha somebody told him some- thin’,”’ said a cowboy. “I don’t like the idea of a moth eaten old sidewinder takin’ my gun away,” complained a cowboy who was new to _the country. “We'd ’a’ had some fun, if we'd refused.” “You’ve got a sweet idea of fun,” growled Pete. ‘That moth eaten old sidewinder is jist thirty-two years old, and if we hadn’t turned them guns over to him he’d jist about ruined the whole gang of us with his pet Winchester. When you see ‘By order of Buck Brady,’ you better read the upper part of it and act accordingly.” LL THE cowboys went back to their drinking, and the sheriff was forgotten, but both Bud and Pete kept track of the sun. The sheriff, humped in his chair, still whittling, saw Pete come out, saunter to the hitching rack, where he could view the sun. It was still an hour high. Ben Dolan, fairly well filled with liquor, came over again and squatted on his heels beside the sheriff. Ben was as hard bitted as the rest of the cowboys, but he liked both Bud and Pete so well that he hated to see either of them wounded or killed. And Ben was wise enough to understand that both men would claim their guns at sundown. They saw Bud leave the Desert Well Saloon, walk halfway across the street, as if heading for a store, stop and look toward the west. He too was keeping cases on the sun. Then he turned and went back to the saloon. Ben made meaningless marks in the sand with a forefinger, while the sheriff whittled thoughtfully. “You shore collected a lot of guns, Sheriff.”’ light. “Yea-a-ah.” ‘Almost sundown.” The sheriff shut one eye and considered Ben. Then he looked toward both saloons, and went on whittling. “The boysare gettin’ nervous,” said Ben. “T notice.” Several cowboys were standing in front of the Prospect Saloon now, and one of them -essayed a clog dance. His boots sounded loud on the old wooden side- walk. Another beat time on a porch post with the end of a quirt. It was like the beating of a tomtom, and he kept it up for a time after the dancer had stopped. The beater was swarthy, with high cheek bones. Some of Bud’s gang came from the Desert Well and stood around in front of the building. One of them, a little drunker than the rest, started across the street toward the sheriff’s office, but the others stopped him and, after an argu- ment, persuaded him to desist. “Tt’s kinda sultry,” said Ben, rubbing his forehead. The sheriff nodded and looked at the sun, only half of which was visible now. He blinked from the strong light and cut several shavings, which did not suit him atall. A couple of dogs met in the middle of the street; town dogs, fat and with a friendship of long standing. But now they growled ominously at each other, as they circled, looking for an opening. “Sic ’em!”’ hissed a cowboy from in front of the Desert Well. “Take him, Tige! Shake his loose. Four bits on the yaller one.” “You’ve done made a bet, cowboy. Choose him, Ponto.”’ But the dogs only circled and growled, and finally separated. ““Mebbe they’re waitin’ for the sun to go down,” whispered Ben. The sheriff shook his head. “Got more sense than men have.” fleas HE SUN was down. Only the tip was visible, and the crests of the broken hills showed a golden. high- It was very still in Mojave Wells. The shadows were gone now and the street comnlicloooks.com