Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 7, 1928 — page 123: what you’re looking at

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

RESTLESS GUNS. pranks with him, and such reflections were undeniably disquieting. A most practical and unromantic traveler, for his age, he had stepped from a railway coach on sudden im- pulse, and been stamped in an instant with the brand of Cain. Moved by a gallant motive to guard a woman’s peace of mind and security, he had be- come party to a conspiracy, denying what he would have admitted, and practicing the arts of the confirmed casuist, Every attempt to escape from the toils had plunged him deeper into the maze of mixed tragedy and comedy, and scarcely a fortnight after leaving New York he found himself sitting in a prison cell, heavily manacled, and soberly credited with a criminal record that challenged the most desperate achievements of all the devil’s disciples of the lawless Southwest. It irked him, too, that a mature per- son of Sheriff Kemp’s local prom- inence should bombastically plume himself upon the distinction of running down and capturing the alleged prince of outlaws. Ira Kemp, with small ability and less acuteness, already regarded himself as a living terror to malefactors, an astute detective, and the stalwart champion of law and order in an unorganized territory which had not yet gained a conception of those institutions. Norman was shocked and angry, but scarcely astonished, when Althea Lane was brought to the town jail and locked in one of the four cells, held by order of the sheriff as a suspicious per- son and a material witness. No one could tell how long the cap- tives might be kept waiting for trial, but it was understood that they were to be taken to the courthouse at Santa Fe, though Kemp promised the local residents that the inevitable hanging should take place at the county seat— a moral lesson and an entertainment combined. om a small window in their cell, A 113 Norman and Ronald could view a broad section of the main street and the plank walk, and they learned much of the fluctuations of popular opinion by observation. It was a favorite pastime, now, in Split Cafion, to stand on the street op- posite the jail and regard the window of the murderers’ cell curiously and speculatively, while discussions of crime and depravity waxed furious. Hard-working miners and cowboys appeared as morbid as the idlers of the town, and people made excursions from the country to stand and gape at a window. The guards in the jail soon lost their awe and fear of their captives. They were under strict orders, but were not trained to the spirit of rigid discipline. A naturally jolly young giant from the county seat, a cowboy named Seth Corwin, was the most friendly of the sentinels, and he frankly established himself on terms of familiarity with the prisoners. During his hours of duty he gave Norman and Ronald the news of the day, and from him they learned the names of many of the citizens that passed in the daily parade on the plank walk. Among the cowboys from the RX ranch three prominent survivors of the Little Alamo appeared almost daily, to scowl savagely and apostrophize the cell window. Seth Corwin pointed them out, naming them as Red Jukes, Fishbone Marlin, and Luke Wilder. Impromptu mass meetings were held on the plank walk, and from time to time there were spirited demonstra- tions Stones were hurled at the win- dow while the excited citizens howled in derision and rage, and disorder con- tinued until guards went out from the lower room of the jail and dispersed the agitators. One day of unusual quiet and order was explained by Seth Corwin to the mildly curious prisoners. The atten- tion of the populace had been tem- COMIC OOO KS (E@)