Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 134: what you’re looking at

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

760 he comes back there and gets away again, I'll have ye out of the force and cleanin’ harness for a pastime!” Then, hell for leather, and devil help the hindmost, he rode with the two constables into the southwest. He hardly expected that he would overtake Billy in this wild ride, which was just as well, for Billy was at that moment asleep in a hay rick some fourteen -miles behind him; but the ser- geant did expect to close every door that might offer Billy succor or assistance. The sergeant had now set out to pursue Billy in what is colloquially known as grim earnest, and it is an interesting sidelight upon the history of that pursuit that Mac- Quillan implicitly trusted Billy to remain in Canada while he chased him. It never occurred to the sergeant that the Texan might ride across the border; and it never occurred to Billy either. The three red coats came thundering up the cafion to the Widow MacKreagh’s homestead in the pink of the morning. With a constable covering the front, and another the rear of the house, and with his revolver in his hand, MacQuillan entered wrathfully. Mrs. MacKreagh came forth in a flannel dressing gown, whereupon the good sergeant’s blushes outdid the glory of his tunic. He quelled them. “‘'Ye’ve been harboring an outlaw!” he said sternly. “Good Glory, sergeant! I thought there was something the matter!” ex- claimed the widow. “Matter enough, woman. He’s given us the slip.” She clucked sympathetically. “You mean you’ve lost your horse?” MacQuillan flushed deeply. “Cheat the devil!” he roared. they all daft, entirely?” “ What’s the matter?” she asked. “ There’s a murderer out on the country side! The crown rides hell bent for him, and ye help him get awa’! Isn’t that mat- ter enough? D’ye ken we can have ye jailed for it?” “Bless my soul!” quoth Mrs. Mac- Kreagh with asperity. “Is all this busi- ness of getting folks up in the night and shouting loud enough to wake the dead, to ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. say nothing of the living, and Lord knows the boy needs his sleep, for he’s growing, just like his father did, all because of that poor young man who came in and helped me to break five horses that wouldn’t be broken to this day if he hadn’t, and the notes due at the bank, too. “Shame on you, Mr. MacQuillan, that boy is no more a murderer than you or me, and I’d ask you to place me in jail if you dare. Taking out your spite on the widow and orphan when you ought to be getting the man you're after instead of playing about on your night rides and morning visits.” MacQuillan felt no less baffled by this deluge of words because the dauntless lady’s eyes sparkled humorously while she outpoured it. “T want no talk about it, madam,” he replied with dignity. “ And tell that young man who’s disturb- ing my chickens at the back, that next time he’s on duty he’ll do better not to loaf about folks’ houses for breakfast when the man he’s chasing is a smarter man than he is. Will you stay to breakfast, sergeant?” “Tt have work to do.” Sergeant Mac- Quillan enlisted a heavy severity as his ally. ‘“ You have harbored a man who is wanted by the police, Mrs. MacKreagh, and are guilty, moreover, of assisting him to escape. If we get him, the matter may be overlooked. If not, I don’t see what can be done to defend ye.” “Leave that to me, sergeant.” But the sergeant seemed moody and pre- occupied. He looked upon her darkly. ““ Craddock!” he bellowed. Craddock entered at his call. “You will stay in this house, Craddock, 7 ordered the sergeant. ‘ Mrs. MacKreagh will see that you are made comfortable, and you will provide yourself with the neces- sary provisions, sending in a requisition for the outlay. You will not leave this place until further orders, and if Argent comes here you will arrest him on sight.” MacQuillan turned to the lady with gloomy triumph in his eyes. ‘I shall count on you, Mrs. MacKreagh, to make Con- stable Craddock comfortable,” he said. “ Bless the boy!” cried Mrs. MacKreagh, Gomichooks:c¢o