Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 40: what you’re looking at

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

hy ar , ‘) - longed to old man Clayburn, and was, as sows go, well behaved and mannerly, the a helpless, baffled rage. drive a longhorn Florida bull, mad with mother of several large litters, and the pros- pective mother of still another. You would not suppose that two dogs as small as fox terriers could kill an animal as large as a full-grown sow; but their methods were satanic. They had learned early in their dealings with other animals that a joint frenzied attack repeated suf- ficiently would eventually drive any ani- mal, no matter how large and powerful, into IT had seen them the September heat, round and round a dried swamp until the beast fell down with exhaustion. And I had seen them similar- ly wear out razorback after razorback— and a Florida razorback is as dangerous a customer, almost, as a wild boar, so hunters have told me. And I will have to confess to a certain responsibility. The Florida fence laws were legislated _ by the cattlemen of the State; if your land is not properly fenced and cattle or hogs break through and destroy your crops, you have, under the law, no redress. The fox terriers soon learned that I approved of their attacks on cattle and hogs that had broken through my fences; but they did not understand why cattle and hogs outside my fences should not be fair prey as well. The time came when, unless I chained them up, they spent their days and nights rang- ing—assaulting any animals they could find; and I had just about decided to sell them or give them away when Alvina Barnes came to Vingo and took the prob- lem off my hands. When f crawled through the rusted wires into the broom sage field, Alvina, the dogs, and the sow were already at the other end. I could not see the dogs or the sow, but over the waving tops of the sage, the girl’s shoulders, in the clinging red dress, and her head were vistble, and her hair was down and waving about her shoulders in a wild, dark banner. The sow was grunting and squealing, Alvina was shrieking, and the - dogs were yelping like mad. I shouted to her to call off the dogs, but she either did not hear or did not care to hear. And when f reached the end of the field, the _ four of them were zigzagging down toward ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. the other end, but the sow was grunting less loudly. And suddenly a chill trickled down my back. She had whistled again—that eerie, haunting whistle that sounded as the pipes of Pan must sound if they are ever heard. I knew that Clayburn’s old sow was dead. The dogs had stopped yelping. The sow had stopped grunting and squealing. Some- how that whistle belonged to death, and it did to the very end. The hog was lying on its side, not moy- ing a muscle, when I reached the end of the field; and the two dogs were standing as I had seen them when she had whistled at the death of the big bull blacksnake, ears erect, eyes agleam, white bodies tense, saliva sliding off their pink tongues. Alvina Barnes wasn’t sorry. No, she was never sorry for any harm she did, and death in any form didn’t seem to disturb her in the least. Her white rose skin was stained an even shell-pink, her round, small breasts were rising and falling rapidly under the tight red dress, her pale eyes were shining. She laughed softly. “Some dogs, mister,” she remarked in that melodious voice. I prodded the sow with my boot. “ You’ve killed this hog,” E told her. “What do I care?” “Tt’s going to cost you twenty dollars, anyhow,” I said, angrier than ever because I knew it wasn’t true. I was the one who would have to pay for the sow; it was my damn fool dogs that had done the actual murdering. She laughed and snapped her fingers. ~ “Are these your dogs?” was her impu- dent answer. And when I nodded, she said: “ Well, then, you must be the sheriff and the game warden and the storekeeper and the postniaster I’ve been hearing about. If you only had the halo around your head, yeu’d be just as important in this place as—”’ “What are you going to do about this hog?” I snapped. She put her hands on her slim, round hips and grinned at me. “My! Ain’t you mad, sheriff! DPN just bet you don’t love me a little bit. I’ve sort of corrupted the community, haven’t 1?” ~ Comicdooks (E@)