Argosy All-Story Weekly, December 4, 1926 — page 132: what you’re looking at

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

442 From distant ranges a timber wolf had appeared in his quest for food, and Sandy had experienced a sudden feeling of kin- ship, or was it resentment? Night after night he had sought the wolf without result, but whether his quest was friendly or not, all this changed when the wolf attacked the flock Sandy had come to regard as his particular charge. With rifle ready as a club Brick ap- proached the struggling animals, but so swift were their movements, so darting at- tack and retreat, it was impossible to dis- tinguish between friend and foe. He might strike at the wolf, and the crushing blow fall on Sandy. There were bloodstains in the snow, and a great stretch was broken and disturbed by their stumbling bodies, and through it all the man watched and waited. This was a battle worth waiting a lifetime to see. It was primitive, as old as the mountains about the casual arena. And then it ended with an abruptness that left the man stunned. Fangs gleamed briefly and disappeared into the fur about the other’s throat. One creature darted away, the other lay trem- bling on the snow, and when life had left and the limbs stiffened Brick picked up the remains and carried them toward the house’ down in the valley. He noticed a light burning in their bed- room, and then he saw Marie framed in the window for a moment. The light dis- THE U U ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. appeared, but a second appeared on the lower floor. And when he was crossing the east pasture he saw her come through the gate and run toward him. “Qh,” she cried, “‘ it took so many shots. T heard them, counted them, and—why did you bring him back?” Brick smiled. “ There! There! This is not Sandy, but a gray shadow that looks fike him. This devil has been shot at be- fore; he leaped when the gun flashed and I missed every shot, but Sandy had something that was surer than bullets—his fangs. “T tried to get him to come, but he would not leave the flock. This wolf skin is prime, and it’ll make a great rug for Sandy to sleep on when he stretches out before the log fire we build winter evenings. Get my hunting knife, Marie; I want to finish this skinning job right now. Say, call up Nel- son and tell him he owes Sandy an apology, and it had better take the form of a dog collar properly inscribed. Nelson isn’t a bad sort; he’ll come through.” ‘What? Call him this time of night?” ‘Sure. He may be in bed, but he’s not asleep. You see, Nelson is quite a shot; he took three cracks at this wolf and missed. He’s so mad about now sleep is impossible.” Then Brick and Marie looked across the moonlit fields to the splash on the hill where the now quiet flock rested. A gray shadow emerged and looked about. It was Sandy. Sometimes he licked his wounds, but mostly he stood guard. END U THE HOUSE OF JOY OME one’s knockin’ at the door, But he won’t get in! I know who the ‘ ‘ divil ” is, Just as sure as sin. His name is Gloom; the fiendish cuss Has chased me since a boy, But let him knock; ’twill be in vain— This house belongs to joy! H.R. Bangs. (E@) IDooks (E@)