Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 7, 1928 — page 132: what you’re looking at

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

122 seemed that one of the long, slim bar- rels moved slightly toward the girl. “You're a mad man!” cried Nor- man Trent in horror. “ Think what you’re doing. Why should this girl have to die? Why should she have to go with you, if you’re an object of sheer horror to her? Have you a sin- ele human impulse?” “The impulse of vengeance is hu- man,” said the Black Parson. “I con- fess it is my most human weakness.” There was a note of sudden fierce- ness in his quiet voice, and one of the revolvers swung very slowly toward Norman. Eben Hoskins, the young deputy and a simple fellow, did a simple thing. It was the thing that all so-called bad men secretly, vaguely fear, and always expect to meet soon or late. The Black Parson was serenely con- fident of his hypnotic power over the company. ‘The men stood before him, humbly obedient, held in thrall by ab- ject fear, and by the mysterious power of his low voice and the majesty of his bearing. Thus he had held trainloads of men and women speechless and obedient to his will, Thus he had faced superior numbers of strong men of blood and iron, well armed, and conquered them and slain them, alone. But it is the weakness of persons of abnormal or highly complex mentality that they reckon least of all with the simple souls of the earth. A simple thought filtered into Eben Hoskins’s indolent mind and his brain cells carried the resulting impulse through the nerves to the waiting mus- cles. Eben dropped his arms and stooped to the floor with unwonted swiftness, and he snatched up his abandoned rifle and pulled the trigger. It was a mira- cle of co-ordination and lightning speed. A bullet sped from the rifle and pene- trated the mask, the skull, and the brain of the Black Parson, an ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. He stood still for a moment, scarcely flinching, apparently as erect and debo- nair as before. Then the two bright guns dropped from his hands, and the slim figure swayed forward and fell almost rigid, at full length on the floor. Althea sprang from her chair, ut- tered a piercing shriek, and fell in a swoon. Sheriff Kemp leaped like an eager hound upon the fallen foe. He tore the black mask, now wet with blood, from the “head, and revealed silvery white locks. He turned the body over, exposing the face. “Great God!” he cried out in an awful voice. “It’s Blind Bill—the blind man—the girl’s father—he was blind! How—” A crash of rending timbers came from below, and a fresh burst of ri- bald, savage shouts and cheers. A fusillade of rifle and pistol shots pro- claimed a battle in the lower room. Like lightning Seth Corwin stripped the manacles from the wrists of Nor- man and Ronald. “ Quick! The roof!’ he cried. Norman shook out his aching cramped arms, then sprang across the room and caught up the senseless girl. Ronald snatched up the two long- barreled revolvers, and he shuddered as he did it, and looked at them with loathing. “Here,” he cried to Norman, “ yeu take one. Now run to the roof. He said there were horses waiting. ‘Take her over the roofs—find the horses! You can make it. I'll be along. Don’t mind me!” Norman’s muscles were stiff from his confinement, but Corwin and Hos- kins boosted him up the ladder in the hall and through the skylight, follow- ing after him with the other men. The moon had not risen, and the bright light from the bonfire in the street served to throw the flat roofs into deep shadow. Norman heard a burst of shots be- - hind him and sensed that his com- Gomichbooks co