Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 14, 1928 — page 140: what you’re looking at

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

- $18 consideration for the comfort of his passengers. “TI just don’t seem to be able to get enough sleep these days,” he grumbled as he rolled a cigarette. ‘‘ Seems to me they could let a body get forty winks once in awhile.” An exchange of glances on the other side of the coach. Hal Donald winked gravely and a smile covered the face of the professor. “Maybe you'll get some rest— later,” the young man _ suggested. “ Body who’s always wanting to lay down—might get stretched out, you know.” “What do you mean by that?” Coulter’s hands were on his guns. “Just that. That's all.” “Listen, gentlemen, listen.” The professor had raised a staying hand, as though to becalm belligerent com- panions. A sudden pitching and jolting of the coach as it came to an abrupt halt. Professor Darley and Hal Donald were thrown forward, almost into Titus Coulter’s lap. Then came re- volver shots from outside and com- mands shouted by strange voices. The crack of a rifle from above, and a groan as somebody near the coach was struck by well directed fire. _ Titus Coulter leaped to his feet at the sound of the first explosion. His hands were on his six-guns, and— “Dog-gone it,’ he muttered, “I reckon something has happened!” “ Oh, my goodness me!” shrilled the professor. ‘ Oh, my sakes alive!” He snatched up his little handbag and was staring wildly about. “Stick ’em up—way up high! If you even look as though you wanted to shoot, I’ll drill you clean.” Hal Donald, his gray eyes flashing, shoved a weapon against Titus Coul- ter’s breast. The big man looked down, contempt written in every feature. “What you trying to do, young fel- ler?” he demanded. 39 ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “ You'll see, if you don’t stick ’em up.” , The gray eyes were cold now, cold as icebergs when the sun’s rays fall helplessly upon their gleaming sur- aces. They were the eyes the West had come to know as “ killers’ eyes.” Billy the Kid, Wild Bill Hickock and other desperadoes of that day were men with eyes like that. “Just what do you aim to do Coulter demanded, his glance meeting that of the young man. Outside more shots were ringing and lurid oaths urged the bandits to charge the stage. Professor Darley was strug- gling desperately with his small black handbag. “Tl kill you, you—” Donald’s teeth were clenched as he uttered the words. A grim smile came across the big man’s face, a smile which showed no fear. Then he glanced once more into the gray eyes of the man whose gun was pressed against his heart. “What's the matter, Don?” he asked. “ Lost your nerve? You used to shoot and talk afterward. Don’t you want another notch in that prize shooting iron of yours? I thought you were collecting them. Hal Donald. That’s good. Anybody would know that you’re Don Halton. Get to your shooting, you yellow pup!” “A flash as the little man’s thumb flew back. A sharp click as the hammer of the weapon fell upon an empty cartridge. A look of utter surprise in the drawn face. His trusted gun had failed. Before his gun could snap another time Coulter had snatched a six- shooter from beneath his own armpit and shoved it into the other’s mouth. “Drop that gat!’ he commanded. Donald’s revolver fell to the floor of the stage. “ Put your hands behind you,” Coul- ter ordered. : ri Gomichbook (E@)