The Argosy, March 27, 1920 — page 108: what you’re looking at

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

258 THE ARGOSY. him, the set of his head—which had that hint of conscious strength, both mental and physical, which clearly marks the intelligent fighter—they shrank a little, glowering sul- lenly. Lawler stood close to the door, the pistol danglihg from his right hand. He had hooked the thumb of the left hand into his cartridge belt, and his eyes were gleaming with feline humor. * There’s a heap to_ be told,” he said. “I'm listening.” A silence followed his words. Both men moistened their lips; neither spoke. “Get going!’ commanded Lawler. “We was headin’ south,” said the small man. “ We cut the fence to git through.” Lawler’s eyelids flickered slightly. The heavy pistol swung upward until the dark tube gaped somberly into the smal! man’s eyes. “Pve got loads of time, but I don’t feel like wasting it,” said Lawler. ‘‘ You’ve got one minute to come clean. Keep your traps shut for that time, and I bore you—both— and chuck you outside!” His smile might have misled some men, but the small man had correctly valued Lawler. “Gary Warden hired us to cut the fence.” The man’s voice was a placative whine. His furtive eyes swept Lawler’s face for signs of emotion. There were no signs. Lawler’s face might have been an expressionless mask. Not a muscle of his body moved. The of- fense was a monstrous one in the ethics of the cow-country; and the fence-cutter had a tight to expect Lawler to exhibit passion of some kind. “Gary Warden, eh?” Lawler. laughed quietly. “If you’re lying—” The man protested that he was telling the truth. At this point the tall man sneered. “ Hell,” he said; “ quit your damn blab- bin’!” “Yes,” grinned Lawler, speaking to the small man. ‘ You’re quitting your talk. From now on your friend is going to do it. I’m asking questions a heap rapid, and the answers are going to jump right onto the tails of the questions. If they don’t, I’m going to see how near I can.come to boring a hole in the place where you’ve got your brains cached.” The man glared malignantly at Lawler; but when the first question came it was an- swered instantly: “ How much did Warden pay you?” “A hundred dollars.” “When were you to cut the fence?” “When the norther struck.” * “You saw us cache grub in the cabin?” The man nodded. “What if you had found a couple of line riders here? What were you told to do if you found line riders here? I’m-wanting the truth—all of it!” The man hesitated. Lawler’s pistol roared, the concussion rocking the air of the cabin, The man staggered back, clapping a hand to his head, where, it seemed to him, the bullet from the pistol had been aimed. The man brought up against the rear wall of the cabin, beside the fireplace; and he leaned against it, his face ghastly with fright, his lips working soundlessly. The ‘ little man cowered, plainly expecting Law- ler would shoot him, too, And Lawler’s gun did swing up again menacingly, but the voice of the tall man came, blurting out the reply: “Warden told us to knife any men we found here.”’ Lawler’s lips straightened, and his eyes glowed with a passion so intense that the men shrank, gibbering, in the grip of a mighty paralysis. Lawler walked to the table and sat be- side it, placing the gun near his right hand. The men watched him, fascinated; noting his swift movements as he plunged a hand into a pocket and drew out a small pad of paper and a pencil. He wrote rapidly upon a leaf of the pad; then got up, stepped back and ordered the tall man to approach the table. “Write your name below what I have written—and date it.’ When both men had signed the paper, Lawler folded it, stuck it between some leaves of the pad, and replaced pad and pencil in the pocket. aw veer Comicbooks.comy