Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 158: what you’re looking at

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

784 that drama of Hallie Crockett’s life was over. ‘“‘ Before I go, men,” he said as he mount- ed his horse—the swiftest desert horse in that county—“ let me make one point clear. When you call the sheriff from Yuma, you tell him how John Denver really died. You won’t have my testimony, because I won’t be here. But you can remember what I’m saying. “| killed John Denver, and I'll tell you why. I saw him crawl to the window of the vestibule in the Doxey House, and I saw him raise his gun to bump this boy, Phil Wyndham, off. “Tf that was not good cause for me to shoot, well and good! I’m a murderer! But that is not going to buy you anything. I’m riding off now. If any man objects, let him speak up!” Sam Quiggley made a gesture of disap- proval, but it dissolved in a shrug of his bony shoulders. On his face, as he turned from Tex to look at Phil Wyndham, there was an expression of heartrending disap- pointment. Hallie broke through the crowd and ran up to the side of Ringo’s mount. “Tm glad for what you did to-night,” she said as she held out her hand. “I am glad I opened the Golden Cloud if it only meant that you would be drawn back again.” ‘“‘ Now that it’s gone, I must go too,” old Tex said. “ You’ve called us out of the past. We who are outlaws heard the voice of Dan Crockett; we heard his Alabama Band again. We came; we saw the old place once more! ‘“ And when I saw Dan Crockett’s daugh- ter fall in love—with the right man—it was a like a drink in the desert. It was like finding a luscious drink in the maguey plant just before it blossoms. You cut it— first—you cut it right to the heart! Then it fills with the juice that saves your life! I’ve had a drink! “T was young again for to-night. I am going back again now across the horizon to old age.” That was Tex Ringo’s good-by as, hav- ing pressed the girl’s hand and released it, _ ihe eee his mount and cantered off — ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. the cafion. There was never an invitation sent out again to the silver haired old des- perado to return from that vanished era of bandit days. CHAPTER XXXII. SOFT STUFF. PON the departure of the old outlaw, Hallie Crockett and her foreman slipped away from the crowd, mount- ed their horses, and galloped off in the di- rection of the county road that led to the Crockett ranch. The townsfolk accordingly turned their attention again upon the ruins of the Golden Cloud. Thus far, it appeared that all the guests who had been present in the last hour of the old den were now accounted for. All, that is to say, save one—and he was of no great importance. This one man, immured within the twist- ed walls of the old gambling hall, was Shank Miller. him and trampled him underfoot had fled from the Golden Cloud upon the first inti- mation of disaster. Shank Miller remained, dazed, bewildered, lying under the com- plete protection of the mahogany bar. He stood up, his head swimming, his general attitude—as the result of a knock- out—being one of affable resignation. Lifting himself to a sitting posture, he looked about with an astigmatic focus upon the havoc before him—a havoc which he could only vaguely see through shreds of yellow hair which hung across his eyes. With a very characteristic analysis of the situation, he burst into a loud, good hu- mored, exultant laugh. “Damn if they ain’t all run away from me again,” he shouted—“ every man jack of them! I knew I could lick them. Twelve honest men and true, b’ God! Where are you hiding? Damned if they ain’t run like a bunch of jack rabbits packing themselves in the mesquite. Come on! I ain’t age with you-all yet!” He stood up, bumping his head with a smashing wallop against a fallen rafter. It partly sobered him. He sat ours: again and Those men who had bested - jell fo —_— See ae