Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 61: what you’re looking at

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

—_ ~ VALOR. -games was all over an’ done with. It don’t seem like that real enemies with real guns might come down from the canon top an’ hunt us out in real earnest. It’s a queer thing, Aleck.” Aleck, for whom this was a trifle pro- found, endeavored to evade the issue. “Everybody grows up;. Dave,’’ he said. “ Shore. It ain’t that: But everybody don’t grow up to find things like they are here on the range, Aleck. Everybody don’t grow up to see men fightin’ like rattlers. fight king snakes, killin’ an’ murderin’ for the meat they want an’ the power. In other places, Aleck, I think there are kids grow up to see men live together like you: an’ me, an’ there must be places where. when a man’s right, he can lift up his head an’ say so. An’ dreams an’ games like ours ain't only things for kids to play at, but the right things that come into a boy’s head can stay there an’ grow, an’ be the things he lives for in the friendship of all the men in the world.” Aleck turned from his cooking and look- ing into the boy’s eyes, saw the inevitable fire there. David’s light, serious voice went on, sounding a strange song in the cave. “Tt seems like that if that kid’ who used to play with you, Aleck, was another kid, not me, but some other kid that I knew, an’ the high dreams he had was torn to pieces in front of his eyes, like these here dreams have been, why Aleck, [ think I'd want to fight for that kid. I'd go to the men who hurt him an’ I’d say: ‘ Give this kid back his dreams! Give this kid back the things he knows are right. You hurt him an’ you bruise him, like he was a dog that had done you wrong—but he ain't. He’s only a kid who can see things right. An’ I’d fight for him, Aleck, because I’d be feared he’d lose out, and get to be like the others.” His voice stopped and he stood sil- houetted against the sunlight as if quite contented that his words should bring no answer. Aleck had turned back to his cook- ing before the boy’s voice had finished, but Preest had not missed a: word. ‘“ That’s damn foolishness!’ he ordained scornfully. And Aleck turned on him passionately, whereupon it developed that ter of the floor. he had turned back to his cooking neces his eyes: were strangely dimmed. “Shut up!’’ he cried shortly. “ Voit ain’t worth: lickin’ his. boots, Preest. An’ yore due to- keep yore trap shut. Now!” His last word served effectively to silence — the protest’ which arose to the lips of the — astonished: man; and Aleck turned almost — -apologetically to. David. “* Dave,” he.said, “* there’s a stack of kids in yore boots that wouldn’t have only an obituary to pronounce on them high-up thoughts an’ dreams you speak of. You, yore still up an’ fightin’ for °em. Which: I: want to say that me, Pm fightin’efor that kid you spoke of, too.” And he turned quickly to. his skillet. When he considered the mess of canned meat was sufficiently cooked, he whisked it ‘from the fire and set it down, steaming, upon a grocery box which occupied the cen-. Then he took a number of tin pie plates in: his hand and dealt two. of them onto the rude table as if they were cards dealt from: the pack. Taking a third in his hand he looked contemplatively upen the recumbent form of Preest. “You wanna eat?” he asked silkily. Preest tilted his narrow face upward, peering at him. ‘“You go to: grass!” he said amiably. “You talk o} high-up, loco aspirations an’ such, an’ then you plumb torture a man.” ‘“ Give him: his dinner, Aleck,’’ pleaded David. Sheffield: protested. “Now Dave,” he urged, ‘‘ you know how you said I was to have free say about this.”’ He turned to Preest. “ You know how the deal stands,” he. warned him. ‘“‘ When you come clean, you get fed.” ‘““T told yer how it was, I can’t do no fairer than that, can I?” he cried. ‘Likewise you told a tarnation lot o’ lies,”’ quoth Aleck. ‘‘ When I asked you real gentle, what the old man wanted yore hide for, you: talked up all virtuous an’ un- truthful. Now the kid here, he’s riskin’ his neck fer you, an’ I don’t want he should take no. chances. on a stacked deal. When you lay down: yore cards all plain and regu- -lar, tellin’ me. just. what Old Man Parme- lee’s got to hang you on, then you eat. Otherwise, not.” connichoolks.eonn