Argosy All-Story Weekly, December 4, 1926 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

334 As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Starley regretted them. But it was too Jate. The little, black-eyed, whipcord of aman to whom Grabow had been talking when Starley entered the bar, now slid for- ward. | “Thanks, Starley,”’ he said dryly. ‘“ That was just the information I was wait- ing for!” He had an automatic pistol ready in his right hand; with his left he pulled back the edge of his chamois half- jacket, displaying a star. “Deputy Reade Bunting,” he an- nounced. ‘“ Looking for this bird here who murdered Blackie Vari! Thought he was the one. Now I know it.” His hand went back to his hip pocket, and flashed out again, bearing shiny steel bracelets. ‘ Put ‘em into these, boy!” he ordered, extend- ing the handcuffs. Jerome Starley uttered one rumbling cry. He leaped forward, and caught the deputy around his waist. As if the man were an empty shirt, he whirled him around his head, and threw him into the bulk of Pig Grabow, who was closing in. Two or three of the loafers caught at the desert man’s arms, but he threw them aside like poles. His huge hands struck out, his arms flailed. In front of him he cleared a space, then grabbed Joe Budhouser and _ thrust him behind his huge figure. One hand jerked open the holster at his belt and shot out with a .45 caliber revolver. Then he waited. | 3 Flight was impossible at the moment; twenty men stood between Starley and the door. At his feet cringed Joe Budhouser; in front of him, ranged in a semi-circle, were the sullen-eyed, watchful men of Quartz City. Deputy Bunting was crawl- ing to his feet, half dazed. ‘‘ Listen, men,” sounded Starley’s voice, “ the two of us are going out of here right now. The first one of you who pulls a gun gets plugged; the first one who tries to stop ue=”’ His words ended suddenly in a crash. Pig Grabow had winked at the barkeeper. That gorilla-like individual had leaned far over the bar, a whisky bottle poised in his hand. With terrific impact it came down on _ Jerome Starley’s head.. The bottle shat- ‘tered out of it. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. tered into a hundred pieces; it seemed that the desert man’s head, too, must break open. For one second, two, three seconds, Star- ~ ley wavered back and forth on his feet like a man on stilts who had lost his equilibrium. Then slowly, limply, he sank to the floor, his face and head blood-covered, his eyes still open, but unseeing. Deputy Bunting spoke first. ‘ That’s fine,” he said. ‘“ Now I'll take the boy!” He advanced, fumbling with his handcuffs again. ‘You will not!”’ announced Pig Grabow. “Tl take care of the rat myself, me and my friends here. Say, Bunting, if you know what’s good for you, you'll just vamose for an hour or two. ‘You see, Blackie Vari was a particu- lar friend of mine, and of some of these other boys, too. We aim to give his murder- er a stretch of rope instead of letting you have him. “He might get out of paying for Blackie’s murder if you take him. As long as we keep him he’ll pay, sure. Use your head, Bunting, and vamose. We’ve made up our minds, and all hell won’t stop us.” Joe Budhouser, crouching against the bar, began to whimper in his throat. Like a cornered rat he looked, his little eyes dart- ing right and left in search of a way of es- cape. Now that Starley was out, he was helpless and knew it. ‘“ Let me go,”’ he sobbed. I had to kill him, I tell you! him. Let me go!” Pig Grabow waved one of his ham-like hands at the cowering boy. “See, Bunt- ing, he ain’t even worth arresting. Busy yourself with another drink while we march him out to the old cottonwood.” Bunting hesitated. ‘“‘ Couldn’t quite do that,” he said. “ But I could go down to “ Let me go! I had to kill the store, and be buying some tobacco or something.” He turned toward the door, and saun- Behind him piled twenty of the tough loafers of Quartz City, buffet- ing between them a little, whimpering, rat- like murderer. Already a rope had ap- peared.. The cottonwood tree was only a hundred paces down the crude road. COMIC KS (EG)