Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 189, No. 4 — page 120: what you’re looking at

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

590 Springs this minute, miles away from where the holdup took place. But as it was, I was to be the goat in this Red Handkerchief business. “Who—who’d ever expect the Red Handkerchief to pull off a job so close to Redbug?” one of the boys at last opens up. “Why, Purple Rocks is only eight miles below here.” “To hell with what you expected!” the cow-puncher roars out. ‘‘ Where’s the sheriff? I’ve got to find him quick!” “The sheriff's on a bust,’ some one speaks up, “ but his deputy’s right here— that tall fellow in the blue suit.” The cow-puncher had my arm before I could loosen up my tongue. “Get your posse together—quick!” he shouts. ‘‘ You can corner ’em in Rado Pass if you hustle up and ride like hell. They’re headed that way.” Say, if I ever wished I’d never been born, it was then. I could just imagine how I’d look riding at the head of those hard-boiled desert rats, having only rode a horse three or four times in my life. But it wasn’t the looks of things that was bothering me so much. It was what was likely to happen later. I could just picture how I’d come tumbling out of my saddle, all white and limp, after the Red Handkerchief had honored me with his first shot. And I’d come here for my health! “P?m—lI’m awfully—awfully sorry!” I stammers. ‘“ But I can’t leave that gosh- blamed express office. You see, we’ve got a lot of valuables in that old safe, and the sheriff told me—”’ | “ Don’t worry about the office and the safe,’ some fellow broke in. “ We'll see they’re watched good while you’re away. There’s Old Sandy, Peg-legged Bill, and lots of other old-timers what’s too old for hard riding, but not for hard shooting. They'll keep an eye on the place. [I'll line ’em up right away.” The fellow went out of the bar on a run. “ Seems like you could get up your posse right here, Gus,” another sings out. “ This roomful of hard-drinking, hard-riding, hard- shooting huskies, with a fellow like you at their head, ought to give the Red Hand- kerchief the run of his life. The only ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. thing that’s troubling me, is that the Red Handkerchief has heard of your reputation and won’t come out in the open and fight.” “ But I ain’t got no horse,” I wheezes, my knees shaking fit to be tied. ‘‘ Never had need of one since I’ve been here, so I guess I’m out of luck. One of you fellows what’s got a good one will have to take my place.” ‘“ Redbug never sees any of her officials stuck,” a grisly mine boss chimes in. “ You can have your pick of the best horses in the town if we’ve got to take ’em by force, ‘cause you’re the only one here what’s got a chance of shooting it out with the Red Handkerchief and living to tell the tale. There’s too damn many amateurs tried it out already. Come along and we'll look the street and stables over. We'll have a dandy for you in a jiffy.” My brain was churning around like one of them electric clothes washers what we’ve got in these days, and my old heart was pounding against my ribs like it seemed it could be heard outdoors. But for the life of me, I couldn’t think up another single excuse. I was so upset that I didn’t know whether I was coming or going. So when that mine boss leads the way through the door, I follows him outside, my feet dragging like they were made of lead. ‘We'll be all lined up and waiting for you here, Gus,” some one called from in- side. “Do,” I shouts back, not knowing just what else to say. Then I staggers behind the mine boss, down the street. It didn’t take him long to get a horse for me, He headed right for Bower’s general store, and picked out the best critter in the bunch that was tied outside. It was a dandy to look at, but not to ride. . The sleek, lean sorrel was mighty skittish when the mine boss led him to where I stood. I wouldn’t have bet I could have stayed on his back two seconds. ‘““Here’s one of the fastest horses in these parts,” he says, trying. to hand me the reins. ‘“ If he don’t run down the Red Handkerchief, nothing ever will.” I took another look at the horse. He was prancing around, his front feet high up Gomichbooks (E)