Argosy All-Story Weekly, December 4, 1926 — page 134: what you’re looking at

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

444 which that simple sentence was uttered, had cast a spell over them. No man dared contradict him, no man dared disobey a command from him; and yet, for that mat- ter, no man believed he knew what he was saying. Little Swig Moran made the first move, which was to pull nervously at his mustache. This gesture always seemed to precede either an act, or the process of thinking. It brought forth now the simple gesture of taking the noose from Harry’s neck. Harry Morrel stood free, his piercing eyes staring at his father from under lowered brows. It was to Harry that the light came first. He knew in a flash what had hap- pened. His father had found out about that damnable calico—and the brand! “Vou’ve played your part in this busi- ness, Chief,” he said with a defiant tone of finality. ‘‘ Stay out of it. And keep your mouth shut.” “T reckon you think you'll decide the outcome yourself!” the Chief said not without a savage threat in his voice. “ Well, by the Eternal you won’t. It’s been de- cided for you. ‘“Maybe you think a prisoner has the right to refuse liberty. Maybe so some- time. But not this time. “You’ve got another job on your hands, besides swingin’ peacefully up thar in the wind. You’ve got a fight on. -You started out from Neutral Saddle for to get Ladley. I balled up your game. I and my posse have failed—due to my blunderin’. Ladley was up there in the Horse Doctor’s Ranch in the Big Mesas. “ The posse would of corraled him there, except that I sent ’em on the wrong trail. It’s the first time I ever let a gunman git away; and if you have any honor for the father that begat you it’s up to you to square that thar mistake of mine. “Go get him, son. That’s the last re- quest I'll ever make of you: Go get Lad- ley, and exes the Morrel name an honor- able name.’ “You mean he went back. to Concha’s ranch!”’ Harry exclaimed in a queer voice. “He went back—I reckon to get her. She’s his woman; she rode off to Mexico with him.” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Harry’s face turned white. ‘“ To Mexi- co!” he cried voicelessly. ‘‘ Concha—with that killer!” The father was surprised at the effect this announcement had on his son. He had no idea that the mention of Concha’s name would mean anything to him; instead Harry looked as if he had been struck a body blow. “Go up to the ranch; get their trail,” the father said hurriedly. ‘ You don’t need no posse. You kin‘do it alone. Take my horse—it’s the fastest for desert ridin’, the fastest in the country. Git the trail, and ride through till you kill the blood- thirsty coyote.” ‘“Where’s my six-gun?” Harry cried in a pale fury. ‘“ And my rifle?” “Here they are,” Grannas said. When the Papago shaman and the giant squaw saw the prisoner being armed, they set up a scream. But no one paid any at- tention to them. Harry took his six-gun, stuck it into his holster, and carrying his rifle under his elbow mounted the Chief’s horse. Larabee, the Simpsons, Grannas, and Swig stared open-mouthed at the whole high-handed proceeding. The Chief had come and, without a word of explanation, had freed and armed their prisoner. But even Larabee was unable to utter a single gasp of an objection. They all stood there helpless and dum- founded as Harry wheeled the Chief’s brone and disappeared up the canyon in a cloud of dust. When Harry was gone from the scene they became aware of the frightful din in their ears, which was caused by the two Papagoes. The old man was uttering blasphemous threats—part in broken Eng- lish, part in Papago. The squaw stood with huge hams of arms uplifted, her body convulsed with her shouts, like a volcano bellowing fire. ‘“ Pale-face Chief gyp us!”’ the old Sha- man was screaming. ‘ Poor Papago is tricked from his revenge. Lies, _ tricks, palavers—good! Bye’m by tell ’im tribe. Kill all white prospectors.” “Now wait a minute, you shriekin’ id- comicbooks (E@)