All-Story Weekly, Vol. 112, No. 1 — page 99: what you’re looking at

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

MIDNIGHT OF ‘But not to kiss her,” Berenice snapped, her face like flames. “How fierce our cat is to-night,’ Ma consoled, drinking the dregs of her tea and setting the empty cup down noisily. ‘“T don’t care!” Berenice exploded. saw him.” ‘Well, what o’ that? In dealin’ with men, Bernie, you take my advice. Don’t believe anything you hear o’ them and on’y half you see. Then you’ll be happy, though married.”’ With which piece of sage advice she lum- bered about the room. Presently she glanced about. The girl was gone. ‘““Went to her dad, at th’ calaboose; said she wanted to cheer him up,” Pa Wick- son said. ‘“‘ Best place for her,” Ma said, waving her dish-towel at an intruding fly buzz- ing in the early lamplight. “I saw Ed Burlane bend over that greaser hussy, an’ by all good rights he was a kissin’ her, an’ she’s handsome ’nuff to excuse sich do- in’s, but though I saw him do it, I don’t believe my own eyes. He’s not that kind o’ a harpen!”’ “You said a mouthful then, agreed. “You shet right up, Pa Wickson,” she flared at him, bouncing to the door leading up-stairs; ‘“‘ you men allus stand together.”’ Pa Wickson’s face went blank. He got out his old pipe, filled it, lighted it, sat down heavily on the doorsill outside. There was a stir in the open space beside the house; Ed came softly around. ‘‘ Hist, young-timer,”’ Pop said, puffing peacefully. ‘‘ You tread light; you're: in disgrace here.” ‘“Why?” Ed demanded, but softly. “Til tell you,” and he did. Ed laughed sheepishly and went over his side of the affair. . ‘‘ Sounds mighty nice, but somehow it lacks what the poet might call verisimili- tude,” Pop laughed. ‘“ You lay low, young- timer, on that trail, till this blows over a bit. Ill stick up for you to Ma, an’ you watch a chance to explain to the girl. One thing ’s sure—Berenice must o’ had a no- tion towa’d you, or she’d not been mad if you kissed fifty greaser fire-water sellers.” “T Ma,” Pa THE RANGES. 89 “By thunder!” So Ed, bouncing upright. him amazedly. “She must think something of me, tha’s a fact.” Ed was joyous. “Yes,” Pop said soberly, ‘‘ but now she’s thinking about you, in thinks not loud but deep. Next time you want to call on a Mexican bar lady, you manage it all in th’ dark, young-timer.” “IT will,” said Ed fervently. Pop looked at CHAPTER XVI. MALFRANE WONDERS AGAIN. ITH inborn cunning, Barney Barn- quist, as soon as the glamour of his adventure in the Chaparral Cock, his first care-free fling as a ruthless man of the sort he had always secretly ad- mired had worn thin, remembered what the possible effects might be to him later. For whereas up to that time he had been simply a hulking, somewhat surly son of a man of means, he now was the heir, the man able to awe a barroom full of bad men, the Lothario of the roadside aguar- dient joint. That the news would travel and lose nothing in the travels it was sent on, by gossiping tongues, he had no doubts. But the sense of growing power, the sweep of egoism following his exploits with gun and gold, with bad man and bad wo- man, elated him. All the naturally evil traits of his nature expanded, dilated. They filled his coarse being, and yet his inheri- ted shrewdness whispered, with an inner ‘Caution, against too great a degree of con- fidence in mere chance. The work of the big ranch was going for- ward carefully, driver by Pardee, who, anxious to retain his old-time place and prestige, managed well. Barney had too much hard sense to interfere in that, and knew. that as long as he let Pardee alone, Ox Bow would flourish. Barney had, however, three cares eating away at the back of his mind: Greasewood Kate’s threat of producing a will; Mal- trane’s actions when he came to discuss Barney’s roasting of the Mexican gam- blers, as he was bound to do in time when cCoOmiclbooks C©