Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 5, 1928 — page 144: what you’re looking at

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

710 “Well, the map is here; yuh got it, ain’t yuh?” he queried gently. “Oh, yes, it’s here. Alf knew it by heart, so he didn’t take it.”’ “Well, will yuh trust me with it? Yuh willing that I should go out after that gold and bring it back with me?” “Trust you? Why, Jack, how you talk! Course I trust you. But— No. There’s been enough blood shed over that gold. I won't let you—” ““*Scuse me,” Jack Peebles inter- rupted. “ But time might be the es- sence of this here contract. Buried gold draws men like a molasses pot draws flies. I aim to get that gold for yuh. And I'll have to find Alf’s mules and do a lot of things before I start. Now I’m goin’ in to look at Alf a minute, and when I come out—yuh gimme that map.” As he stood looking down at the still unconscious young man on the bed, he mentally ran over the strange series of events which had led up to the pres- ent excitement : The discovery of a gravel claim by - Pat Lowring, father of Alf, and his partner, Johnny Baker; their removal from the gravel of several hundred ounces of gold in nugget form. The necessity for them to go back to Purdy for more provisions and tools and their determination to bury the gold, and upon their return with tools, including a portable blacksmith’s forge, mold the gold into one heavy brick, which would insure greater safety against possible theft. Accordingly, they had buried the gold, taking only enough to pay for outfitting again in Purdy; had made a crude map. They had been surprised in their first camp on the trail, while they cooked supper. ‘Their bodies had been found, riddled with bullets and minus the two buckskin sacks of nuggets. However, a few days later, a Mexi- can sheepherder had found the two sacks and the map on the body of the bandit, which lay, crushed by a fall over the cliff, at the bottom of Chil ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Gulch—not two miles from the spot where the two prospectors had been murdered. The small amount of gold and the map had been sent to the widow of old Pat Lowring, and, after the funeral, young Alf had set out upon his ill-fated attempt to find the gold and relocate the rich gravel claim. Thus Smiling Jack Peebles recapit- ulated as he stood looking at the quiet figure on the bed. Soon he turned away and went out, to begin his preparations for accomplishing what Alf Lowring had failed to do. IIT. In the late afternoon of the next day, The Fox hurried along a woods’ road on the shoulder of Thunder Mountain. His head ached cruelly, and, as he hurried, he shook it fiercely as if to shake off the fumes of an all night debauch—a celebration of his coup which he had indulged in back in the little road house in Purdy. For once The Fox had been caught napping. He had learned that a pack train had left town the previous after- noon. He had made adroit inquiries and learned that one Smiling Jack Peebles had been seen driving two pack mules up the trail that led over Thun- der Mountain. There were tracks in the dust of the road, and he became familiar with them. .T'wo hours more of fast walk- ing and he suddenly stopped. ~ Ahead of him had sounded the bray of a mule, raucous and shrill. “ He’s probably made an early camp,” he soliloquized, not realizing the man he sought should be miles beyond this spot. ‘“‘ Now, me, I'll just breeze in and give him a spiel. Le’s see. I’m going on to the next town and didn’t think it was so far; didn’t bring any grub or blankets, and tell him I’m hungry, too, which ain’t no drunken fiddler’s dream, either.” Around a bend in the road lay a camp and, assuming a guileless expres- (Eo) DOO AMI S (C@