Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 11, 1925 — page 46: what you’re looking at

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

> 200 ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. A howl of pain came, followed by yells and curses. More shots followed. More yells. A sense of unreality and melodrama assailed the bewildered Steve and heartily he loathed it. He felt about, learning that he had fallen into a bare little gully or dry- wash. The shooting ceased. He climbed upward slightly and stuck his head out of the little crevasse. Three excited flashes whipped out, about a hundred yards away. A bullet sizzled into a sand pile near him. A lot of men were having a battle! “Let ’em get it out of their systems!” decided Steve, returning to cover. “ I'll wait.” A last shot popped near him. There was a yell. It subsided. Suddenly he heard the shriek of starting motors and then the deep throbbing of powerful machines. He looked out again. The two moving vans were roar- ing away, their lights yellowing the fog in front of them. The fog closed in. The red tail lights disappeared. There was a faint sound of motors and then silence. At length Steve climbed out of his cre- vasse, a victim of weird circumstances, thoroughly resentful. His eyes, accustomed to darkness, could tell earth from sky; but his position was utterly unknown. He stumbled forward, somewhat uphill, trying to find the road where the trucks had gone. Suddenly he heard a muffled groan. He halted and peered at the ground. Some- thing lay just ahead of his boots. He reached downward, touching warm clothing with his left hand. His right, sweeping lower, accidentally came upon the butt of a revolver. He grabbed it. “ Pass the word!” gasped the wounded man. “ Tell ’em the hijackers got us!” “‘ Hijackers?” wondered Steve. ‘‘ What’s a hijacker?” : The wounded man twitched. Despite the darkness he managed to convey his alarm. “ Who’s talkin’?” came a near-by voice, as an indistinct form approached. “ Bill! Pete! Is that you, Pete?” “ A spy!” gasped the wounded man. “A _ spy—the guy that came off the boat! He’s kiddin’ me! Look out!” Steve did not wait for the next move of these suspicious men, but leaped to his feet and swung the muzzle of his pistol forward. “ Stay right there! this nonsense for one night! hands up!” The approaching man’s form became elongated. Steve walked up to him and found a weapon which he stuck into his pocket, somewhat irascibly. “ The next time you stage one of these knock-down-and-drag-out shows please get another audience!”’ he suggested. ‘ You’d better go home and take your friend with you!” “‘Ya-a! You spy! You lookout! I thought there was somethin’ queer when we seen you hangin’ around the beach! ‘The I’ve had enough of Stick your ship’s crooked, too! Everybody’s crooked!” ‘“‘T believe it!” admitted Steve. “We should have croaked you, you spy! You tell them other birds that we’ll meet "em some day, and you, too! Do you get me?” ‘ All right,” agreed Steve, turning away. “Take care of your friend. I’m going. I hope you'll meet all the hijackers you want!” Thoroughly disillusioned concerning his method of reaching his sister and her smart home in the city, he found his road and cannily kept to the wheel-tracks, glancing rearward until he was well away. At times he halted and his desert-trained hearing was put into play; but there was no sound ex- cept the muffled booming of the ocean. He trudged uphill for an age. The fog lessened. He reached a summit at last and descended along the edge of a hill. Far inland, across a dark void, he saw a moving light which became twin lamps, then disappeared. Later another pair of lamps passed; and then another. Cheered by this sight he walked along cautiously for another hour. At last he saw the lights of a farmhouse as he came around a bend. He reached a dim white fence and went past it. A dog barked. Steve’s feet touched hard pavement. A highway at last! He halted and tried to look backward up the old dirt road, hearing no sound. Far to the southward, along the highway, came two far-away lights, promising a possible ride. His recent troubles were over. Sud- denly, as if remembering something, he ran his right hand under his shirt and fondled a eal - ~—<—! — ig {ite «f= 5 Eomichbooks com