Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 18, 1928 — page 87: what you’re looking at

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

DAMAGED REPS. Sam whines, following at my heels. “ It’s bad enough to know that I let Robbins get away, without you rubbing it in. How’s the best way to head off our man—that’s the question now?” “Tm going to gather up the posse again,” I told him. “As soon as we get "em together, we'll work in all directions from town. Maybe, even in the dark, some of us will pick up their trail. Or if we don’t, we ought to have them hemmed in between .us by morning, provided the boys move along fast. It’s our only chance.” It was only a little while later when I had just thirty-two of the boys out of bed ——more than we had before. And I was particular to see that Oklahoma Pete was among ‘em, ‘cause in the dark I figured more on him than all the rest put together. After I had given Sam and the rest of the boys their instructions to spread out in all directions as fast as they could, figuring to close the devils in, me and Pete took a squint at the ground right under the window where Red had climbed out. Each of us holding a lantern, we soon caught the spot where Red dropped. Then it didn’t take us long to follow his trail across the cleared piece of ground in the back until it went into the woods. There we lost it for a time, but Pete finally picked it up some fifty yards in. After that, it was fairly easy following for ’most four miles when we came to a creek, And at that creek we were stumped. Hard as we tried in the dark, looking along the banks on both sides with our lan- terns for a long stretch, we couldn’t pick up Red’s prints. As it was now close on daylight, we set down to rest. While we were stretching ourselves out on the ground, Pete remarked how Red must have walked a long ways, either up or down the creek, right through the water, to throw us off his trail. That was an old trick, and it sounded mighty rea- sonable. So I tells Pete that just as soon as it gets light, we’ll walk along the creek, one up, the other down, until we finds where Mr. Garlow left the water. And when one of us comes to his footprints, he’s to fire a shot as a signal to the other. Pete thought that was good dope. As the first streak of gray came over the hills, Pete was itching to be off. See- ing how his eyes were better than mine, I told him he could start up the stream, and in a few minutes, after it got lighter, I'd commence to work down. I watched him nosing around the banks on both sides un- til he disappeared from my sight, hidden in the mist rising from the water. It wasn’t more than ten minutes later when I got on the job myself. Wading right down the middle of the creek, I kept my eyes peeled on both banks. | I was still dragging along, through water and smooth stones, when the sun came out bright. But I hadn’t seen the tiniest sign of Red Garlow. And I knew that Pete hadn’t neither, for my ears had been strained for a shot all the time. For a spell, I fell to wondering whether I'd better go back over my tracks or keep on. But I was so sure that I hadn’t missed anything along the way that I finally de- cided to keep heading down. And just around the next bend in the creek I saw something that made me open my eyes. It was a fresh broken limb of a bush overhanging the stream. And just below was a pool, likely ‘most too deep to wade. { was up to that spot in a jiffy, and it didn’t take me long to see Red’s footprints leading through the mud on the farther bank. Excited like and forgetting all about firing a signal to Pete, I followed those prints on a trot, my heart in my mouth. But I was due for a jolt. In a little ways they turned into the creek again, leaving me almost as bad off as ever. Plunging into the creek once more, I cast my eyes right and left, trying to pick up Red’s tracks. I guess it was because I was watching the banks more than the creek that I stepped into a deep hole. Anyhow, as I was trying to pull myself out, my foot slipped on a smooth rock and down I went. After I’d come up, sputtering and blowing, I made for the bank. And it was there that I discovered I’d lost my gun! It had slipped out of my holster somehow when J was churning around. ~ If that creek hadn’t been so bined: op EComicbooks (Ee)