Argosy All-Story Weekly, December 4, 1926 — page 36: what you’re looking at

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

LEA eA ZZ By GEORGE M. JOHNSON Author of ** The Range Rider,’’ ‘‘ Baffling Trails,’’ ete. A NOVELETTE—COMPLETE IN THIS ISSUE CHAPTER If. RUSTY MAKES HIMSELF USEFUL. “ @ ND fifty!” Rusty Towers softly whis- A pered, methodically adding three gold pieces—two twenties and a ten—to the coins he was counting out from his reserve. “ Kinda proud of that hand, ain’t you?” sneered Rusty’s principal adversary, a man whose expressionless face and meticulous black garb stamped the professional gam- bler. | “You don’t know the half of it, hom- bre,” Rusty coolly informed him. “ Your next move.” The room resounded with the tinpanny thumping of a battered piano, harshly ac- companied by the scraping feet of dancers. Through open windows came in from out- side a confused uproar, occasioned by the presence of a large floating population— Mexican vaqueros, American cow-punchers, and others—attracted into this border town by the fiesta conceived in honor of some ob- scure saint of the Mexican church, and cele- brated by quite unsaintly revels. Ae, oe aby)! 346 Yet all this din served hardly to mask the tension which hovered over the poker table. Although he strove to conceal it, one gathered the vague impression that the professional gentleman’s aplomb was in danger of being shattered by this encounter with Rusty Towers. You would have liked Rusty; no question about that. In his blue eyes sparkled a bubbling fountain of infectious vitality; a sheer joy in the wonderful adventure of be- ing alive; that rollicking, devil-may-care spirit which has ever characterized the cow- boy of fact and fiction. But im the case of Rusty Towers this was net all; there was about his blue eyes a peculiar changeable quality. At times they were like two limpid pools of azure water, mirroring the clear blue of the cloud- less Western sky above; friendly eyes, you would have said, and rightly; eyes indic- ative of a devoted loyalty to be depended on in time of need. But there were occasions when the color of Rusty’s éyes changed subtly to the cold sheen of winter sunlight on the polished blue of a pistol barrel, danger signals it EO PMICL OOO KS { = . J _* i = Me (©)