Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 4, 1925 — page 136: what you’re looking at

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

926 when they had gone a quarter of a mile, the sheriff rode in front of his prisoner. ‘“Sam,” he began, “I reckon you know that this is gonna be a pretty bad trouble for you?” “I ain’t talkin’,” said Little Samuel. “« Sure you ain’t, except to me. I’m your driend, Sam. I ain’t here to take no ad- vantage of you in nothin’. I want to see you and every other gent get a free break and a chance to clear themselves. “ But the skunk that I’m after is this here Jingle-Bells. He’s showed up the town and made a fool out of me, squeezing through the whole lot of us and gettin’ clean away. We've got to have him and we're gonna get him. “ But if you could help us to land him pronto, it’d be a lot easier for you, Sam. T’ll tell you this—if you was to give us a quick chance at him, vou’d go plumb free and get a ticket to ancther town. You hear?” Sam swallowed hard. ‘But if you don’t,” said the sheriff, ‘‘ you’re in bad trouble.” ‘A little joke on Mr. Nichols—” began Sam lamely. “A little joke? Lemme tell you, Sam, that that sort of a joke—you know what it is?—it’s kidnapin’—and that’s just the same as murder. Doggoned if they couldn’t hang you for a thing like that; or the least sort of a sentence they could give you would be fifteen years—” “ Hangin’—fifteen cried Little Samuel. “ It ain't true: “You black fool!” said the sheriff. ‘Don’t you see that this scoundrel E] Can- tor has made a tool out of you and that he has given you the slip to let you stand the punishment while he gets away—if he can?” Little Samuel considered, and then he shook his head. “Tf I was to talk about El Cantor, d’you know what he’d do to me?” ‘¢ What could he do?” ‘“ Burnin’ alive would be about his size,” decided Little Samuel thoughtfully. “So tell. us what we want to know, and we'll clap him behind bars—that’s the end of him!” years—my God?” q)) > ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. ‘Him? Bars ain’t made that'll keep him safe!” Little Samuel announced. ‘ He’d squeeze out through a knot-hole, doggone him!” No persuasion could move him. And so, formally arrested for the crime of making an assault upon Hugh Nichols and illegally confining his person, the big negro was herd- ed back toward Gloryville. It was full morning, with a hot sun riding high, when they arrived. But Gloryville was quiet as night. For the strain of all that had happened since midnight had made men and women sleep late. As for Hugh Nichols, he found a room in the hotel, flung himself upon it, and slept as one drugged with fatigue until mid-afternoon. Then he rose, drank two steaming cups of thick, black coffee, and then went to find Mar- garet Swain. She and her father had been accommo- dated at the parsonage. The parson him- self was met by Nichols in the garden of the old house—a pale and shaken parson walking nervously back and forth. When the gate slammed behind Nichols, he jumped as if he had heard a gun explode. The Easterner introduced himself and was greeted with a faint handclasp. ‘“ Mr. Nichols,” he said, “ the world has gone mad, or I have gone mad! Or per- haps you have a theory. How did FE} Can- tor break into the house without being seen last night?” ‘It is a hard problem,” admitted Nichols, “‘ unless he was in here all the time.” ‘“‘ Before they came?” rT Yes.” “No, no!” the parson asserted. “‘ I know that he is a man with nerves of steel, but not even he would have dared to do such a thing. He could not! And yet, Nichols,” he added, clutching the arm of the big man, ‘““when I was in that room with him, when the rest of you were at the doors trying to beat them in, his voice was as cool as yours or mine at this moment! At this mo- ment!” In the house, he found Margaret Swain at once; the parson brought him to her in the library, and she stood up, pale and smiling, to greet him. All the weariness CO lDOOlK