Argosy All-Story Weekly, December 4, 1926 — page 61: what you’re looking at

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

EXCITEMENT TRAIL. | 371 cal costume of the Mexican rider, or vaquero. The sight of this armed man re- called to Rusty’s mind his own pistol, and he twisted his neck to glance down toward the holster, which, of course, was empty. ‘“‘ Naturally they’d pull my teeth,” he re- flected. ‘‘ Couldn’t expect anything else. Be reasonable, fella!” More and more the fog that beclouded Rusty’s brain was fading, until he recalled everything that had followed his unexpect- ed encounter with Rosita: their interrupt- ed flight and the sudden pistol battle; the discovery that his horse was missing, fol- lowed instantly by the vicious blow from behind that knocked him cold. ' “Hum!” he meditated. “ Looks like the plot’s getting a bit complicated. Wonder what’s become of Rosita. Probably locked up by that loving dad of hers. Well—one thing’s sure; the merry wedding bells won’t peal out to-day,” and Rusty’s thoughts dwelt with profound contentment on the ~ huddled shape of Don Enrique Mendez, dropped by the first bullet which left his gun at the beginning of the mélée. “As a bridegroom that Don Enrique’s a total loss,’ Rusty ruminated. ‘“ Even if not plumb salivated he’s in no shape to take over the sober responsibilities of mar- ried life. But I wish I knew what all’s happened. Mebbe I can acquire a few facts from this bird detailed to nurse me.”’ He sat up on the edge of his cot, where- upon the walls of the small room began rocking gently back and forth, like a ship riding gigantic swells. Rusty shut his eyes, and the dizzy spell presently passed, at least the worst of it. He managed to grin at the guard, who watched him attentively. “ How about a bucket of water?” Rusty suggested, his grin broadening with an in- gratiating air of companionship. “I feel like I’d been on a glorious spree.”’ The Mexican smiled in response to Rus- ty’s grin—a friendly smile, though totally uncomprehending. “Tye learned something,” the prisoner thought to himself. ‘ This lad is a fairly decent scout and he doesn’t know English. That goes down for what it’s worth.” He repeated his request in mongrel Span- ish, whereupon the guard instantly rose \ ~ from his chair, bringing Rusty a dipper of water from a cask in one corner. “Muchas gracias, amigo!” and Rusty drank gratefully, bathing his throbbing head with what’ remained of the precious liquid. He was refreshed enough to feel the need of a smoke, and manufactured a cigarette from the makings which every rider in-. variably carried. Rusty tossed the papers and sack of tobacco over to the vaquero, who readily accepted this little token of amity. “Guess I stirred things up a little last night,” the prisoner observed, scratching a match on the sole of his boot. He spoke in. border Spanish, naturally. “ Of a truth you did, sefior,” the vaquero assented, showing white teeth in a smile. “This fellow calling himself Don Men- dez,” and Rusty expelled a cloud of smoke. ‘* How did he make out?” ‘* He is dead, the soul of a coyote!” The words wery spoken in a vindictive snarl. ‘He has received just punishment for his many misdeeds, son of perdition that he is!?”' Rusty found this unexpected outburst quite acceptable. Luck was with him in one respect, for it seemed that Don Peren- zo had chanced to select as guard for his prisoner a man who had cordially disliked the late Don Enrique. ‘““And those other fellows I shot?” he questioned. “They were not fatally wounded, sefor. It is thought that all may perchance re- cover.” . ‘Tm glad of that,” Rusty said simply. “ T didn’t-have any quarrel with those poor devils. What’s Don Perenzo planning to do with me, do you know?” he added. ‘Alas, senor! It grieves me to say it, but Don Eugenio swears he will hang you the same day they bury his dead friend, whom you killed.” “ That’s a pleasant thought,” Rusty grunted.. “ When are the obsequies sched- uled?” : “ Day after to-morrow, senor. You have yet two more days to live.” “Two days are a _ lot—sometimes,” | Rusty declared. Then, after a moment of EGomilebooks ic