Argosy All-Story Weekly, December 4, 1926 — page 50: what you’re looking at

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

360 hoping to lessen the suspicion-born re- straint naturally attending the presence of a stranger. Many 2 picturesque and highly uncomplimentary reference to this dog of an Americano met his ears, but Rusty gave no sign that he heard. Peons and half-breeds were thus _be- trayed into talking more or less freely before him, but Rusty, while he gained facts of spicy gossip regarding sundry per- sonages of the sections he traversed, failed in the matters that vitally concerned him. _ He took pains to inform himself as to the ownership of big ranches or haciendas, many of them spreading over a vast do- main, like independent feudal states. Be- yond a doubt some establishment of this kind sheltered Rosita. But he learned nothing of her. Continually Rusty’s thoughts were fixed longingly on this girl of Mexico, on their one meeting, so tantalizingly brief—the meeting which had~ changed the whole tenor of Rusty’s attitude toward life. His heart grew sick with the hunger of bitter longing to hear again the sweetness of her voice, the music of her soft laughter. “ Tf I hadn’t been a hopeless nit-wit I’d ’a’ got her whole name,” he mused unhap- pily. ‘‘ What I got to ‘go on ain’t hardly anything at all. Still, it’s a lot better’n nothing.” For Rusty was determined not to become discouraged. After a time, finding that his plan of listening to chance conversation brought no definite results as to the masked leader of the raids on the Crossed Arrows ranch, Rusty began making cautious inquiries as opportunity offered. His search lengthened into weeks, carry- ing Rusty ever farther to the west, where finally he ran across first tangible evidence of the rustlers—a partly cured steer hide, drying in the sun before the humble hut of a half-breed. This hide bore the familiar - crossed arrows of his father’s brand. “ You come quite a spell from home, old fellow,” Rusty meditated aloud, regarding this evidence from his saddle. “ Wish you could talk.” The man who owned the hut lounged in- dolently in his doorway, eying the specula- tive cow-puncher with a malevolent glance. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. ‘“Where’d you get it?” and Rusty jerked a thumb toward the hide. He spoke in the bastard Spanish that was used throughout the border region. The mestizo’s lips curled in a sneer which showed a row of white teeth against the brown of his face. All in all, the fellow was not unattractive to look at. For an instant he seemed to meditate a defiant answer, but was perhaps deterred by the challenge he read in Rusty’s nar- rowing eyes. ‘“T bought it, senor.” “The steer was stolen,” Rusty informed him, quite unnecessarily. The half-breed shrugged shoulders. “As to that, senor, who am I to know? I need meat for myself and my little ones. I buy the steer. That is all.” “ Who’d you buy it off of?” “That I cannot tell you, senor. His name—this seller of steers—quien sabe?” Rusty imagined a note of triumphant malice in the fellow’s tone, and was already regretting that he had betrayed an interest in the hide. This breed, lounging lazily before his squalid habitation, was no vaquero, and certainly had taken no active part in the cattle raids, even though he might have shared in the profits to a slight extent. | And on the other hand it was quite pos- sible that he spoke the truth when claiming to have bought the animal. “Oh, well,”—Rusty spoke indifferently, “cattle are public property—to men of spirit. What do a few steers amount to, one way or the other?” “That is indeed true, sefior,” and again the breed’s lips curled back from white teeth in a grin—or was it a sneer? Rusty’s fingers itched to administer prop- er punishment for this insolence, but he wisely refrained. “I played the fool by saying anything a-tall to this greaser,” he muttered to him- self. “Should have kept my trap closed about that hide. Likely the fat’s in the fire now, and getting into a squabble ain’t going to pull it out.” Without another word he wheeled his mount and departed, the mestizo watching expressive COPNICGLOOOKS (E@)