All-Story Weekly, Vol. 112, No. 1 — page 91: what you’re looking at

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

MIDNIGHT. OF cans, seized the dice box at the end of a cast. “Tl play you both,” he roughly said, “ dollar a throw.” The two Mexicans drew back, seemed about to dispute. A low word from Agul- lar made them bow. “ Si, Senor,’ one of them said, signing that he accepted for the two. ‘ Poker dice, shall it be? Why play small? Gold piece against gold piece? One throw to decide each round?” Barnquist rolled the dice, nodding; ene of ‘this gold pieces clanged on to the reugh deals of the bar. The Mexican companied Barnquist’s yellow bit. Barney threw two pair—treys, fours. The Mexican who had spoken cast—four fives. He took the money. Barney threw again. The dice showed a lone pair—fours. _ The Mexican cast, sardopic in expres- sion. He had rolled four fives. He took the money. Barney, irritated, snapped the dice from the box again. He showed three deuces. He thought he had won on such a throw. The Mexican, smiling blackly, rolled the dice out. He had cast four fives. Barnquist drew back quickly and eyed the two, who smiled at him so urbanely. They stood, hands on hips, puffing their cigarros quietly, their black; beadlike eyes gleaming. ° “T don’t like men who ad-ways throw four fives,” he snarled. Standing so, he was the great, hulking, clumsy boy. The clack of tongues ceased in the reom. Aguilar, smiling evilly, never ceased to puff at his cigarette. “The Senor will recall dhat wee did not ask heem eento dhtee game,” the Mexican spokesman smiled, shifting his weight just a bit. “What’s that mean?” Barney scowled, bulking over the other angrily. The Mexican simply puffed, then sent a cloud of smoke toward Barney’s convulsed face. “The young Senor has poor manners,” he purred. Aguilar laughed, low, easily. The Mexi- cans in the room echoed it. - manhke THE RANGES. * $1 It was at this moment that Lars Mal- trane looked in the front door. He saw the tensed bodies before the bar. He saw Barney’s outthrust jaw, the silky playful- ness of the insulting Mexican. He was on the point ef crushing past the human bar- riers between and taking his place where his salary called him to be—at the side of his chief in trouble, when— Barney Barnquist’s right hand flowed in even, smooth, snakelike rhythm over to his left hip, where hung his gun, butt not worn sloppily turned backward as was his usual wont,: but turned frontward, in real work- fashion, The two Mexicans Started their draw at the same- moment, and because their hands were hipped in their seemingly languid pose of set inso- lence, they appeared to have the better of it. Barnquist had completed his draw; his gun spat—tright, left. The weapons of the Mexicans spun, shattered, with almost unbelievably accu- rate shooting; struck from the hands that had held them. Then the gun of Barnquist held the two cringing dark skins at his mercy and, his eyes blazing, he dominated the room. The two so threatened scuttled from the room, followed by Barnquist’s scornful laughter. Maretta came from behind the bar, hav- ing emerged swiftly from the inner room at the first sound of the clash. “ Basta,” she shrilled, “ what have we? The King of Ox Bow is no boy; he is a man. .He has fairly driven two of the worst gamblers of the whole region from our place. They are crooks, throwing cocked dice—”’ A murmur of approval greeted her praise of Barney. In another moment Barnquist was ordering drinks for the motley crew and was accepted among them as one worthy of admiration. Maltrane, amazed, watched the. curious scene to the end. He saw the evident favor the woman was showing to Barney, remem- bered the young mian’s former subdued air and foolish attempts at frontier gallantry. And, more, he remembered the hours spent in showing the apparently hulking, slow heir of Ox Bow how to work out the fine points of revolver practise. comiclboolk C©