Adventure, February 1917 — page 195: what you’re looking at

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

professed man-killer, but with the resolu- tion of one who fights to the last. The impact of the heavy bullet spun him clear around. He fell, his face toward his enemy. But instantly he propped himself on his elbow. His voice rang like steel. “You yellow skunk!” _ Duke Bartlett, his Colt again poised, glared down at him. But the boy ignored that incarnate death. His scornful eyes transfixed Kitty Courtney who stood sup- porting herself against the fatal table. “You!” His voice was like breaking ice. “T’d never believe you’d be in on a trick like this!” The girl started forward. “No! no! Nick! O my God! ‘I didn’t know anything about it! It was just an accident my getting you to drop your gun!”’ She whirled on Bartlett. ‘“— you, Duke! I wouldn’t take your dare that I couldn’t make him dance with me, but I never knew you meant to shoot him. You’re killing a man who isn’t heeled! You sha’n’t! You sha’n’t!” She ran at him screaming. But Cactus Kimball seized her and thrust her roughly : back. “You keep out of this!’ he ordered. “This is a fair fight. It’s nobody else’s a This thing is between Duke and “That’s right!’’ said Bartlett grimly. After his first shot the gunman had as yet withheld a second—not from any touch of compassion but for two very practical reasons. In the first place, he had shot down a plainly unarmed man, a. thing unpalatable even to the lawless habitués of Sandy Flat; and in the scond place, his well- founded belief in his own deadly skill gave him assurance that Nick must be mortally wounded. Why arouse the latent hos- tility of the ‘spectators by a second and unnecessary shot? But his grim assent to his friend, Cactus Kimball’s déclaration drew upon him the dauntless eyes of Nick Ramsay. “Shoot!”? exclaimed the boy. ‘Shoot! Before I tell °em why! Before I tell ’em why—you dog!” The devilish gleam in Duke’s pale eyes showed that the moment was to be the stricken lad’s last. Kitty buried her face in her hands. <3 It was the piercing voice of Utah that The Fox-Trot of The Crazy Gleam like. 193 uttered the stern command—not to be dis- obeyed even by a man-killer in the very act of throwing down on his victim for the finishing shot. But without removing his rattlesnake glare from the fallen, man, Duke protested viciously. “This is a personal affair, Utah!’ “T don’t say it ain’t. But is it a fair fight? And you’ve downed the kid already, He’s mighty hard hit for mighty little, judgin’ from what I seen of this. If you’re so set on killin’ him, let’s hear the why of it, first.” ‘Utah bulked enormous in the front line of the lane of spectators. He bore no visible weapons, and neither his words nor his tones were menacing, but his blue eyes seemed to show large and clear from his fat face. The thumb and forefinger of each hand rested carelessly in his waistcoat pockets. None knew better than Duke Bartlett that to fire on Nick Ramsay at that moment was to run the risk of deadly argument with the proprietor of the Crazy Gleam. It seemed best to temporize for a moment, until he had set himself right in public opinion as represented by Utah. “Tt’s a personal matter between him and me,” he insisted. “I gave him a chance to draw. I reckoned he had another gun in his shirt. I gave him a square deal.” “Tt’s a lie!’ exclaimed Kitty Courtney. “You shot him like a dog!” | During this colloquy which, indeed, had lasted only a few seconds, Nick had been mustering his failing strength. Now, propped on his elbow, his burning brown eyes never swerving from Duke’s face, he spoke evenly and rapidly. “You downed me this way because you were afraid if you didn’t I’d down you—in a fair fight! You knew me before I’d any more than begun to guess you were the man I’ve been after for a year! You’re the man who took my sister! Ruined her! I’d never seen you, but I reckon she—my little Bess —had a picture of me. And so you placed me, but I’d only heard what you looked And you must. have looked mighty different in other clothes. reason I didn’t know Duke Bartlett: was Hal Lawson—the dog who ruined my sister! And then you threw her to the wolves!” The fury of his eyes was like fire. ‘‘Where is she, Lawson? Where’s my little sister, Bess?” - - (e(0) 3| OVOXO)|5< That’s the — (E@)