Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 28, 1928 — page 51: what you’re looking at

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

ROPE NECKTIES. In the hollow, behind a breastworks of hosses lying down, is two parties, but what surprises me beyond doubt is that one is a girl. “You heard my rifle shot,” she whispers, getting to her knees. “ Dick and me repulses two charges of the Apaches, but I have noticed their fires and knew they were getting reénforce- ments.” Meantime I give a good look at her companion, who is down, out, and gone. There is no fight left in him for this scrap, if any other. “Your hosses?” I queries. “ Both dead.” “Then we'll join you, ma’am,” I said, speaking, I knew, for Shorty. “That young feller with you don’t look as if he could be moved none.” More like he appeared dead to me, but I didn’t say so. We dismounts and makes our hosses lay down at the back, forming some- thing of a circle. After one good in- spection I see that the mounts belong- ing to this fem’nine party are dead. The young feller with the girl is shot in the head and in the chest under the heart. Nice looking; just unlucky. However, he has a Winchester which is fine, as our Sharp rifles, though making a big hole, and carrying far, have only a single shell. “ Dick tried to make me hide down behind one of the hosses, but I insist- ed on using a gun,” explained the girl. “You two did very well, according to the evidence remaining out there,” I told her. ‘‘ How did this war party happen to trap you?” “We — we — blundered right into ‘em. We could have made a run for it with a decent opportunity, but their first shots downed our hosses. Their two charges we sent flying back, then Dick was terribly wounded—and I was waiting here—till they showed up with reénforcements. I’d sworn they’d never _take me alive.” She paused, her lips trembled, and she started to cry. AA 481 ‘“ Another hour and I’d have been dead,” she said, drying her tears. ‘‘ I'd have kept the last bullet for myself.” The gal’s emotions were running away with her. ‘“ Are you far from home?” I asked, to change the subject. “ Yes, sir—we—we were eloping— aimed to make Hopetown to-night— and catch the stage East to-morrow.” Neither Shorty nor I spoke. ‘This shore was a pitiful finish to love’s young dream. I knew enough of bullet wounds to see this young feller hadn’t a ghost of a show; he’d laid his hand down, and it was beaten. That shot had landed too near the heart. There was no possible use of trying to be consoling in a case like this. Still we couldn’t leave a dying man to be scalped by the Injuns; he might linger for hours in that border land between life and death. If only night would come we might get clear through. ’Course this task of repulsing Apaches did not appeal none to Shorty or I. Still it was the presence of that girl that made the af- fair so embarrassing. She was purty, too, With big brown eyes open so wide and appealing; and her mouth was soft and aquiver from the ordeal she had gone through. Fortunately she did not realize that she had lost her feller for good. Guess she thought he had fainted from loss of blood, but would be A-1I again if he got out of this. I was glad she had made this mistake. “Will the Apaches aitack again?” she appeals to me. Shorty grins. ‘IT don’t know,” I lies, for somehow, I felt their charge wouldn’t be long a coming. We had hardly settled into place be- hind those hoss breastworks when I saw the Injuns galloping from two di- rections, mebbe a score in both bands. They came together for a counsel north of us, naked bodies painted red and black, their ponies’ tails gaudy with EORNICLOOOKS (E@)