Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 18, 1928 — page 25: what you’re looking at

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

BLUE STEEL. was trying to restrain her, but once on the stage he broke his grip on her and let her go. Driven by hysteria, Lily faced the audience and started into a ribald tirade. “I don’t know,” she screamed, “ why I ever cried for a bunch of cattle like you. I ain’t crying now,” she added. “ I’m stand- ing here and telling you cheap skates that we’ve got your money and that’s all we wanted, “ Now,” she continued venomously, “ get the hell out of here, because this show’s at an end right now. We’ve got your money in the box office, and that’s what we came here for—to touch up the pockets of you suckers. To-morrow, thank Gawd, we’ll be out of this hick town and away from you cheap, ignorant bums!” But just then the disheveled figure of the old theater owner came rushing from the wings. “ Sheriff!” he yelled. “ Yo’re in here somewhars. A masked man jest held up the box office, sheriff, an’ stole all the money thet was out thar. He jest galloped away, an’ mebbe it ain’t too late to catch him!” CHAPTER VIII. SILENT WATCHES. LACKIE’S raven message which he carried to the Wagon Wheel ranch house with all the mannerisms of a chief mourner seemed fairly to numb the sensibilities of Jeremiah Steele’s retainers, who had looked upon death in divers vio- lent forms. The body of old Jeremiah was brought back to the ranch in a Canastoga wagon and laid out in the big room upstairs, and there were tears in the eyes of many a hard, fighting face that looked upon the dead chief of the Wagon Wheel. John Ballou, the dead man’s mild-man- nered brother-in-law, found himself tem- porarily in charge of the Wagon Wheel. He closely examined the letter that had ar- rived the day before from the wandering Blue Steel. The smudged postmark veiled the name of the town from which the letter had been mailed. Only the “S. D.” indi- $23 cated that the fiery lad was somewhere in South Dakota. ‘We might be able to reach him along the way by a telegraph,” Blackie suggested. ‘“Thar’s only one way he’s likely to come. He'll be out o’ the Black Hills region fore this, an’ I’d say he’d been scootin’ along the northern border 0’ Wyoming mebbe as far as Sheridan, an’ then turn south, or like as not follow along thet Powder River trail.” “The letter says he’s due here day,” John Ballou offered hopefully. Thurs- es we could only reach him before the funeral—”’ = “Tl do all in my power to fix things,” said the hypocritical Blackie. “I got a, real idee. I’ll ride down to Davy Dibble’s an’ git a look at that thar postal guide o’ hisn. Them towns along the Powder River is all] small. We’ll telegraph the sheriff or deputy in each town, an’ that ’ll likely have ’em pick up Blue when he comes through an’ give ’im the sad news. “For I reckon no one ’d make any mis- take in reco’nizin’ a hombre like Blue Steel. He looks diff’rent from anybody else. He’s a right han’some lad, an’ a_ crackin’ dresser.” Blackie’s tricky suggestion was approved by the unsuspicious John Ballou, and ac- cordingly Blackie mounted his roan and set off toward Poco alone. It was the very lib- erty that he desired at this time. He felt somewhat uncomfortable around the Wag- on Wheel with old Jerry lying dead up- stairs, and he had an additional reason for wanting to ride away with no compan- ions. He made a quick gallop into town, and with Maw Dibble’s eager assistance sent out a few telegrams. He stopped in for a drink at the Corral Saloon. It was practically deserted, except by a few town loungers. The punchers of the Wagon Wheel and of the Lazy S were all back on their re- spective ranches to-day. As he turned into the cross trail that led by the Bar X on his way back to his own ranch, he noticed three riders coming slowly down the street. He made them out as Simeon Weston, Dunstan’s foreman, Dan Naylor of the (E(6) VOOKS mic (E(0)