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.

764 tea with the very last shot of the second bottle of gin. ‘““T don’t want the kid,” said Woodhall, relighting his pipe. “‘ Ye kin take him the rest of the way back to them Kester fools— and to hell with you! But Ill take yer money, an’ the rifles an’ ca’tridges back agin, an’ that thar slab of bacon, an’ yer grand watch an’ chain, so’s J won’t be late a gittin’ to whar I’m a headin’ for. How much money ye got on ye, anyhow?” ‘“Money? I ain’t got no money,” replied the Maliseet. ‘‘ What would I carry money in the woods for?” ‘Dig it out, ye dirty old liar! Ain’t ye willin’ to pay for the kid? (Gimme the hun- dred ye offered me at first. Dig for it— or maybe this here old gun ‘ll go off an’ I'll take all ye got in yer pockets off yer dead corpse.”’ The Matiseet grunted and dug a hand deep into the many layers of clothing upon his breast. Deep he dug, but exceedingly slowly; and all the while he was trying to think of a plan for delaying Weodhall’s action, and for keeping his money as well as the child, and silently lamenting the fact that he had not left all his capital down- river in a bank. He reached the waterproof wallet and began to fumble it with nervous fingers in a desperate attempt to untie it and produce from it the sum of one hundred dollars. Or ninety. Ninety would do—nine tens. He could say that the ten which he had pretended to leave with the boitless rifle bad been out of the hundred. He fumbled and fumbled. Then Woodhall got swiftly and smoothly to his feet and stepped over the fire, still with the big gun ready in his right hand and pointed to the front, and stooped down. Quick as a flash he made a grab with his left hand and an upward jab with his leit knee. His knee caught Gabe under the chin, and his hand came away from the woolly depths of Gabe’s bosom with the waterproof wallet and a length of broken shoestring. A disconcerting memory ef a somewhat similar incident, of an almost identical ac- tion on his part, flashed into his mind; and for an instant his wits balked and his hand ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. lagged, and in that instant of time two un- expected things happened. Dazed by the jar and pain of the blow on the chin, and maddened with rage, Gabe sprang head first and struck Woodhall fairly on the belt with his well padded skull; and little Jacob Kes- ter, who had advanced unnoticed, struck Woodhall across the face with a stick from the fire. The gun went flying aside from Wood- hall’s fingers, the cocked hammer fell and the right barrel discharged itself with a deafening bang into a bank of snow. For a moment action was suspended while every one looked about him to see who was shot. Then Woodhall grabbed again, Gabe dodged and stumbled into the edge of the fire and Jacob prodded and whacked with his stick. It was a desperate scrap while it lasted, and the eight-year-old boy stayed with it— but it ended in a victory for Pete Woodhall. Jacob lost his stick and was flung to the far end of the trench, breathless and bruised and frightened. Gabe Loon lay flat on his back with a slight oder of singed wool arising from him, and Woodhall anchored upon him with both knees in the pit of his stomach and both hands on his throat. And the waterproof wallet was in Woodhaill’s pocket. Woodhall was a mad beast. Reason, cau- tion, all thought of the future, even the last instinctive sense of self-preservation—fury had bereft him of all, of everything but a desire to kill. One eye was closed and his lips were blistered from the blows of the smoldering stick administered by his own son. He breathed with epen mouth, stil! gasp- ing from the head thrust of the Maliseet. He felt sick with pain and hate, and the ache to kill and to punish. He would kill this tricky old man first, then break the child’s spirit. They had gone too far! Hell! They had conjured a devil. He weuld tighten the grip of his hands on this leathery threat—tighter, tighter, un- til the twisting lips parted and the tongue came out. He would grip and grip until the black eyes glazed and the last twitch of nerves and muscles faded away beneath his hands and his knees. And then the boy, his son, the child who CEORMICEIOOKS: (CO) LA