Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 14, 1928 — page 48: what you’re looking at

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

186 But to a certain extent he was mis- taken in his diagnosis of the other’s motives. Crawford was not rushing him out of town so much because of the irrigation matter, as on account of a telegram he had received from J. P. Blair announcing that he and his daughter were on their way to Rio Rita. , When Norman had seen him in the telegraph office that afternoon, scowl- ing and biting his pen, Crawford had been trying to frame an answer to this message that would stave off the ex- pected visitation. For in spite of his vainglorious boasts to Norman, his in- fluence with both the boss and Gladys was somewhat on the wane, and he was afraid, if they ran into their old favo- rite, the situation might get worse. _ But that telegram of dismissal which he picked up from the floor ‘made things look better for him. That meant, of course, that Norman, having to get out and hunt for a new job, would be unlikely to stay long in Rio Rita, and consequently all that re- mained for Crawford to do was accele- rate the matter. 3 _ And, as already shown, he found little difficulty in persuading Norman to do as he wished. Out to the car they hurried, Craw- ford urging his companion along with a hand on his arm, while he kept buzz- ing that there’d be just about time to catch the midnight train at the junc- tion. But just as Norman had lifted his bag into the car a big man on a foam- ing horse came tearing up the street, and flinging himself out of the saddle, stepped up beside him. ; “ Rich, ain’t you?” he said, shoul- dering Crawford out of the way and dropping a hand on Norman’s shoul- der, ‘And where are you going, if ] may ask?” ‘“ Why—why, to Los Chicos Junc- tion,’ Norman stammered. “Oh, no; you ain't,” said the big man, tightening his grip on Norman’s ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. shoulder, and flipping his coat back to show the butt of a forty-five at his belt. ‘You are coming with me.” CHAPTER VII. THE MAN BEHIND THE CURTAINS. ORMAN was so dumfounded at this climax to his day of dum- | founding adventures, that he didn’t really know whether he was yanked from the car, or got out of his own accord. With his feet on the ground, how- ever, and feeling himself propelled along by that energetic clutch on his shoulder, he roused to an impulse of resistance. The memory flashed to his mind of Fenton’s black scowl and the unmis- takable menace in his tone as he voiced that warning of danger ahead, if Nor- man persisted in linking himself with *Jocal trouble-makers.” Was this the retaliation of the gang then for that visit he had paid to Molly this evening? They must have been spying on his movements, and have guessed that his purpose was to reveal his discoveries at the dam. At the suggestion, Norman dug his heels into the earth, and rearing back, endeavored to break the grip which held him captive. But he might as well have tried to withstand the pressure of a locomotive. Wriggle and twist and hold back as he would, he was pushed along just the same. Crawford, however, had pulled him- self together by that time, and seizing the big man by the other arm, served as a brake upon his progress, ‘Here,’ he protested — excitedly. “What are you trying to do to my friend ?” : But the big man, paying no more heed to him than if he were a yapping cur running alongside, continued to shove Norman on until they came to the battered old hack with its Mexican driver dozing on the box. COPMICLOOOKS (F@