Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 5, 1928 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

580 “Dry up, the bunch of you!” Bear Paw scowled. ‘ Herdin’ cattle, eh?” He swung back to Nutting. “In a flivver ?” “Oh, no, no,” Mr. Nutting hastened to protest. ‘I expect to ride a horse. I—brought along a saddle.” He indi- cated the leather pad on top of his pile of luggage. “Yip! Yip! Yip! Ride ’em, cow- boy!’ Paragonah Charley leaped sud- denly into the air and clicked his heels. Bear Paw gave him a glance. “Kin you ride?” he inquired. ‘“ Oh—if the horse isn’t too rough,” said Mr. Nutting. “Kin you sling a rope?” Rawlins’s lip curled. ‘Sling a rope?” Mr. Nutting repeat- ed vaguely. And then he brightened. “Oh, yes—you mean throw a lasso, I take it. Well—no. Not as well as some, perhaps. But—lI could learn, I tancy.” “Fancy,” Swede Anderson mur- mured, “is right. He’s about as fancy as they make ’em.”’ “Can you fan a gun?” Bear Paw’s question cracked. “ Well—I’m not a gunman, really.” Mr. Nutting looked down. “ Then—what’s this for?” The heavy hand which had earned Bear Paw his name shot out, wrenched the revolver from Mr. Nutting’s hol- ster, and shook it beneath his eyes. And Mr. Nutting eyed it with no particular interest. “ Why, I—I un- derstood cattlemen wore them,” he of- fered explanation, his glance running over the men who watched him. “ But I see you—don’t. Sorry. You see, | bought most of my outfit in Paducah. That’s in Kentucky, you know—” “Maybe,” Bear Paw interrupted. “T’m plumb indifferent as to whar it is. What’s givin’ me a laugh is yore ambition to—herd cattle. Mr. Nutting, yo’re a joke. You kin ride a leetle, ef the hoss ain’t playful. But you cain’t sling a rope at’ you cain’t shoot. Bilin’ thet down, you cain’t work an’ ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. you cain’t—fight. Well, as I said befo’ —yore name shore appears to fit.” He flung the gun in the dust. There came a little silence. Mr. Nut- ting eyed his maltreated weapon, and then he stooped and picked it up. A slight flush crept into his cheeks. “Oh, as to fighting,” he said—and afterward Paragonah always main- tained that his eyes had been hard, al- though his voice was still soft—‘ there are other ways besides with a gun, Mr. Rawlins.” “Yeah?” Bear Paw’s word and his grin were but an added taunt. “Yes,” Mr. Nutting nodded. “ And I’m not sure but I like them best. Per- haps I’m a bit primitive in my tastes. Almost any one can learn to shoot, but it takes a real man to get very far with his fists.” He wiped the gun on a sleeve of his shirt and slid it back into its holster. “Thar’s a lot of real men in the West,” Bear Paw rejoined with mean- ing, while the Bar-Bee riders waited tensely for what was coming next. Rawlins was a dictator whom, one and all, they hesitated to cross. And now he seemed spoiling for a fight with this stranger, whose apparent lack of dismay at the prospect they could only ascribe to utter ignorance. “So ve heard,” they heard the lat- ter saying. “ But so far I haven’t met one—yet.”’ “ That can soon be fixed,” Bear Paw sneered. “T’d be right smart pleased,” Mr. Nutting said. “Then—enjoy this.” struck. ? Paragonah Charley sucked in his breath. But he need not have done so. Because Bear Paw’s fist merely fanned the air. Not that his aim was bad, but be- cause his target moved. As Rawlins lashed out, Nutting jerked his head to one side. And then Nutting’s left arm came up and drove his balled knuckles Bear Paw EOPMICLOOOKS (E@)