Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 12, 1927 — page 131: what you’re looking at

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

ALKALI, an’ he lost his head when things went wrong.” “Who’s made any money outa cattle?” Brant demanded. “Lots 0’ folks is goin’ to—an’ I’m goin’ to be one 0’ them!” Jimmie announced in determined tone. ‘ I’d like this kinda life too good if I stayed around, Brant. I’m goin’ on in to Laramie an’ see what I can find to start me off right.” Brant argued, but to no avail. Jimmie was as unshakable, once decided, as his father was. The course of the argument veered now and then, but Brant was not adroit enough to change it for long. Jim- mie Mason had decided, and it was as though the mountains had settled-into their sleep of ages. Later that day Jimmie returned to Miles: “T ain’t goin’ to work with you, Mr. Miles,” he said flatly. “ I'll be leavin’ town in an hour an’ ridin’ to Laramie. I aim to git into the cattle business some time.” ‘“‘ Brant goin’ with yuh, Jimmie?” Miles asked, and even Jimmie caught the relief in his voice. “JT dunno. I ain’t asked him. He kin if he wants. Brant is a great cattle man, he’d git along good if he’d stick to it.” Suddenly Miles threw back his head and laughed uproariously. Jimmie stood silent until the man quieted his mirth, then looked an. inquiry. “<JT aim tuh go intuh thuh cattle busi- ness,’”’ Miles quoted, a little mockingly. “Damned if yuh ain’t the second gen’ra- tion, awright!” ooo CHAPTER XXVI. WINTER. IMMIE MASON walked silently away J from Miles, out into the dust of the street and across to Mulvey’s. Brant was still there, and his first glance at the lad carried a vagrant hope that Jimmie had changed his mind. One look at the set of the chin; the determined walk Jimmie used, however, and that light of hope disap- peared. Brant watched as e fuaae saddled his — OE ne <a Se = ee == oe 125 “You breakin’ away, Hell Bend?” he asked, trying to speak casually. ‘Goin’ to Laramie, Brant,” Jimmie an- swered; ‘“ I’d like fer you to quit callin’ me Hell Bend.” Brant poised himself on the rail of the corral and rolled a cigarette. The sun was sinking fast and a cold, raw wind sprang up. He had difficulty with his paper and tobacco, but finally inhaled deeply. By that time Jimmie was ready to go. “ Brant,” he said, “‘ you’re about the best cattle man I ever heard of. Why’n’t you come along with me? We'll go into Lara- mie way an’ see what we can do.” Brant shrugged. “I know what yuh kin do without goin’ there,” he growled; “ yuh kin ride herd fer thuh winter an’ then go cruisin’ fer grazin’ land next spring.” “That ll do me,” Jimmie said simply. “Tt ‘ll be a start, Brant. He held out his hand and they clasped. ‘“ Better come along, Brant.”’ The man shook his head and puffed his smoke. Jimmie swung into the saddle and out of the corral. The dust eddied about his pony’s feet and was caught by the wind and swept away. It was cold, and Jim- mie’s mind went back to all the winters that had passed back in the valley. He thought of his mother, of Betty, pic- tured them in the big room of the house. His father would be there, too. No one would be saying anything probably. His rmoother would be sewing, after night came and her other work was done. Betty would be doing the same thing, and, he hoped, thinking of him. His conscience cleared with the knowl- edge that he had cast aside offers to re- main in a world of tinsel and gold. Re- sponsibility for his own future gripped him just as it had his father years ago. Instead of a Conestoga there was but a horse, in- stead of a wife and child, there were those things to be won. But the sense of re- sponsibility was huge, he found. A longing came to him for that day when he could ride into the valley and ‘say that he owned his own place, too; that he was ready to take his bride there and that it | was not hidden away from all things of the ae world as mesic aes ———- me — ee —-! ae Tiss = —— = ay a <a —~% at, ~ - om 5 2 a I a i —— er ‘ ee : a Se StS Py - —_ _ mal comic booket com