Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 5, 1928 — page 73: what you’re looking at

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

THE RED MAN’S WAY, ly jerked from their holsters and leveled. Yet before the bent brown fingers touched the triggers, the out- law leader yelled: ‘ Do not shoot! Do not shoot! You may stampede the horses.” Up went Yuma ‘T’om’s tied hands, unfolding the blanket to its full length and width. Down they came again as, still hopping forward, he flaunted the blanket, like a huge danger signal, squarely before the wondering, alarmed stallion’s eyes. Red Gold snorted and stamped a forefoot. What was this all about? Why was his old master bobbing to- ward him, snapping the blanket at him, while the cursing Mexicans dashed closer on a mad run? “Go! Run!’ Yuma Tom _ yelled. “Go to my people. Yi! Yi! Yip, ki ri. With his last bloodcurdling yell, he snapped the blanket fairly against Red Gold’s eyes. The stallion whistled shrilly and wheeled about. He whistled again, and Annaliza answered with a hoarse, far-reaching, “ Haw he-e-e-e!” It was the same answer she had given him in those free days, when he had whistled that danger threatened. Red Gold began another whistle that ended in a squeal, as Blas bellowed at Yuma Tom to stop. Annaliza whirled around. That was her old signal to take the lead, while the fleet-footed stallion took the rear and urged on the slower animals and laggards. By now, every horse was on its feet, head upflung and nostrils distended. “ Haw he-e-e!” Annaliza, disregard- ing entirely her picket rope, dashed away. Still braying, she pounded among the nearer of the herd. She was in full stride—neck out- stretched, ears back, and short tail well raised—when, with a snap, she came to the end of her tether. Blas and his running men expected to see the rope send the mule somer- 639 saulting. Instead, the halter ring to which it was tied, ripped free and, like a hissing snake, it whipped back against the side of a half broken mustang. Once, twice, thrice the mustang snorted before racing after the hee- hawing Annaliza, fast reaching the lead edge of the. herd. "Yi! Yi!’ Yuma Tom called shrilly. “Go to my people!” Already galloping ahead, Red Gold bumped against a brown cow pony, and it was away on a fast run. Off to the right was a fat, lazy gray mare, who seemed disinclined to move. Red Gold squealed to her and then nipped her none too gently on the flank. The mare squealed back, and let drive a sidewise kick. Yet, snorting, she tore past several laggards. The big stallion was soon upon them, whistling, squealing, nipping. This was like the old days. The wily gray mule was out there ahead, leading. He was behind, where now the most dan- ger threatened. Nip, whistle, squeal! The horses were all moving. Now atatrot. Next at a gallop. Then in a rapid, pound- ing roar they thundered away from Bonito Spring, northward. Blas Cannales himself was the first to reach old Yuma Tom and, with a sweep of his arm, to send him tum- bling to the ground. “What did you do that for, Indio?” he bawled. ‘“‘ Those horses cannot be caught. Every one of them has gone.” “ Si, sevior. So they have,” the lit- tle red man returned, speaking in Blas’s own tongue. “ Red Gold and the mule will lead them to my people. Still, I think that as you are the Chihuahua Fox, you will guess that I, the Apache Fox, had a reason. * Without mounts, you will be care- ful what you do to me. Had you horses, you would undoubtedly kill me. But now you will reflect.” “We need no horses to reach a place of safety-to the south,” Ramon put in angrily, glaring down at the old red- Gomichbooks (F@)