Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 18, 1928 — page 33: what you’re looking at

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

BLUE STEEL. or round-up. Blue Steel, not given to boasting about himself, frequently boasted of his horse—the horse that could beat any- thing that ever wore hair, in the owner’s opinion, and more than once the owner had proved it. On through the night galloped Pancho, with long, powerful strides. Never the stroke of a quirt ridged his satiny hide. ‘Come on, Pancho! Come on, boy was the quirt that never failed to quicken the pace of the blue-black stallion. As fleet as a race horse, he ate up the miles, now pointing straight as an arrow along the prairie road, now curving about the trail as it wound to follow the course of the river; as sure-footed as a mule, he threaded his way down the perilous high- way carved along the steep slope that overlooked Poco Valley. As the sun peeped over a butte to the eastward, man and rider topped the final rise of Wild Horse Ridge, and below, smil- ing in the sunlight, swept the green-car- peted reaches of Little Poco Valley, long a stockman’s Paradise. At the southeastern tip of that Valley was the Wagon Wheel Ranch. ~ “Good ol’ Pancho!” murmured Blue Steel in his horse’s ear. ‘‘ We're comin’ near home now, ol’ boy, an’ I reckon y’ain’t like one that don’t know it. We could fair coast in from here, Pancho, ol’ boy!” The big blue-black stallion nickered un- derstandingly, and his white-stockinged legs continued to weave tirelessly on. 179 Blue Steel’s memories of the past few years possessed him as he rode along. Here was a water-hole where he had watered his horse when he first left home to ride up to take part in the wars between cowmen and rustlers in Sheridan and Johnson Counties; there was the grazing-ground of the sheep that had all but caused a bloody war with the cattlemen when the woolly creatures were first brought down there to level to the ground the bunch-grass that once grew here almost knee-high; here was some earlier memory, there another. Over this country, as a boy, years be- fore, he had gone riding with Sally Tolliver, 831 until the news reached the rival ranches and it was made plain to him that Steeles and Tollivers did not mix. Pretty girl that Sally Tolliver must be now, with her gray eyes and her tawny hair; possibly married by this time. The pleasant country unfolded before him, checkerboards of fences confining the cattle of various ranches. He had often listened to his father’s stories of life on the open range, before there were any fences and before Wyoming was a State. He yearned for the freer life and adventure of those days. Pancho’s swift hoofs echoed through the cliff-bordered road which would lead through. a lightly-timbered country and then, after a sharp turn, straight into the town of Poco. Far ahead of him Blue Steel made out a cloud of dust, the dust likely kicked up by some horseman riding out from Poco. It would probably be some one that he knew, or at least some one who knew the Wagon Wheel gang and could give him news of the ranch. Blue Steel made the sharp turn that put him on the road leading straight into Poco, but the rider was not now visible. He made out another lone rider dotting the prairie just outside of Poco, but the first rider had disappeared somewhere. It was just possible, thought Blue, that the first rider had turned into the roadway of one of the small ranches whose snug little outbuildings could be seen perhaps a mile ahead of him. He guided Pancho along swiftly, and was passing through a part of the roadway bordered by short new timber. It wouldn’t be long before he was home now. And then from the clump of trees to his left came a sharp report, and a bullet hummed by the ear of Blue Steel. There was another report, and Blue Steel tumbled from his saddle and fell into the roadway, while Pancho continued on a few paces, and then circled and began nickering nerv- ously. Blue Steel lay prone for an instant, then turned over slowly. His arm flopped limply over his face, and he lay absolutely still. TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK Gomichbooks (E@)