Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 18, 1928 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

806 on the Lazy S had been destroyed by some one with a pair of wire clippers; and Per- kins knew that the outrage was attributed to his own outfit. The silence that followed Naylor’s loud assertion was indicative of its ominous sig- nificance. Perkins nodded to the Lazy S group, and most of the men silently and somewhat contemptuously returned the salutation. The young puncher noticed that Blaine Tolliver, his weak, youthful face flushed and his eyes vacuous from too much liquor, was leaning lazily against the bar. Then out of the silence there came from the back of the saloon a voice that Perkins recognized as Blackie Sanderson’s. ‘A slinkin’ c’yote that ’d pizen a water hole oughta be made to drink the bad water himself!”’ he asserted acidly. ‘“ That is what I allus said, an’ I maintain it now, an’ allus will.” Not long before a bunch of cattle be- longing to the Wagon Wheel outfit had been found dead near a reservoir, and it was generally believed in Poco that the water had been poisoned by some of the Lazy $ men. The cutting of the Lazy S fence line and the poisoning of the water hole on the Wagon Wheel had been only two of a se- ries of depredations that both ranches had suffered over a period of more than two years. It was apparent that the immemorial feud that had existed for a hundred years or more between the Tollivers and the Steeles, which had been quiescent for dec- ades, was smoldering again and was about to break into destroying flames. Perkins, walking down the room toward the rear end of the saloon, saw that a number of punchers from the Bar X were loitering near the middle of the long bar. That was the way it had been since the friction between the Lazy S and the Wagon Wheel had started to manifest itself in the incendiary outrages that the two large ranches had been suffering. The Corral was the only drinking place in Poco, and it was patronized by the whole town and particularly by the employees oi the three ranches that lay closest to Poco. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. The Wagon Wheel outfit had appropriated the rear of the bar, while the men belong- ing to the Lazy S had their meeting place at the front of it. Between them, and isolating the war- ring factions from each other, were gen- erally congregated a number of hands from the Bar X. The latter managed to main- tain a strict neutrality, and it was under- stood that Dunstan, their employer, insisted upon this. Perkins had the impulse to stop and give Dunstan’s letter to one of the Bar X men, but he thought better of it, and, saluting the Bar X hands perfunctorily, he walked down to the end of the bar. After all, Maw Dibble had given him the letters to deliver, and it did not behoove him to tamper with the U. S. mail. He would be passing right by the Bar X ranch house on his way back to the Wagon Wheel, and leaving the letters would only mean a moment’s delay. Blackie Sander- son, Dick Stevens, and the other Wagon Wheel boys greeted him jovially. “Set ’em up, Schmaltz,” Sanderson or- dered the short and pursy proprietor of the Corral. Schmaltz was a timid and inoffensive German, who always wore somewhat of a frightened expression in his blue eyes. A more positive and belligerent man than Schmaltz, occupying his position as pro- prietor of the Corral, might have had more difficulty in handling the turbulent spirits of the cattle country. But no one picked on Schmaltz, who, late at night, when the liquor had been flowing freely, always looked as though he were ready to vanish down behind the bar in case bullets should commence to fly. Perkins noticed that Schmaltz looked particularly worried this evening, and de- duced from this that the animus existing between the hands of the Lazy S and the Wagon Wheel had been more strongly manifested than was usual of late. Schmaltz mopped up the bar, and, pro- ducing a bottle of rye whisky, set it down before the Wagon Wheel waddies. “‘T’ll take one,” said Perkins, ‘‘ an’ then I expect we'd better be lopin’ along, Blackie.” GEomichooks