Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 123, No. 4 — page 121: what you’re looking at

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

PRIDE OF TYSON, “‘ Here’s the marshal, sir,” broke in De- Taney. “Shall I have him swear in a posse?” “To fight that army of fools? No!” The marshal broke through the group at the door as Garth spoke. He was one of those low, broadly built men who seem de- signed for battle—like bulldogs. “‘Got your message, Garth,” he said as he entered, ‘“ and came right up. Give me the straight of it and I’ll have these greasers in order in jig-time.’”’ Here he caught sight of the bloody face of Garth, who kept his handkerchief pressed against the wound. “‘ By God, they nicked you!” “It’s nothing,” answered Garth. point is—” ‘Wait one moment,” said Margaret qui- etly. “I can take care of it.” And she stood beside him. The marshal jerked off his hat and stared stupidly; it was no place for a woman. But Garth flushed almost as deeply as the blood upon his face. “You!” he said huskily. “I forgot—” But Margaret had already turned away and was taking a small first-aid cabinet‘ from. the hands of the, secretary, who was palyed with excitement. She opened it, set to work quickly, washing the shal- low scalp-wound and dressing it in haste and with precision; but even while she worked thé marshal was asking questions. “ Open up,” he said. ‘ The quicker the better, because I’ll need to swear in a posse. Just what happened?” ‘“‘'The water from the mountains is due on the rush,” said Garth. “An hour— two hours—three hours—I don’t know how Jong. It all depends on how hard and how steadily it rains in the upper valley.” “That’s plain.” “T’ve got to catch that water, Marshal Vance! an ocean tide, and every cubic yard of water that gets through the gates ‘means golden dollars lost. You understand?” - “Sure. Close the gates, man. The gates are built in, aren’t they?” ‘‘ They are. And the dam is high enough to hold the first week’s run of water. I sent out orders to close the gates this morning as soon as the rains started. The man I sent brought back word that the dam was ‘ gi yitiZ ry Go ogle When it comes it will come like 627 covered by greasers who refused to work and who wouldn’t allow any one to ap- proach the dam.” ‘A strike?” “Call it that. I went myself to close the gates—”’ He paused a moment and flashed a glance up to Margaret as she finished her swift bandage. Not a word of gratitude—only the silent look. ‘‘ When I reached the dam,”’ he went on, “I was stopped by the mob. They grew bolder. I tried to force my way through. Some one of the greasers drew a knife. I knocked him down. Then a gun was fired and the bullet glanced across my head, stunning me. As I dropped some of the boys who were with me—Delaney and the rest—dragged me back. The Mexicans didn’t follow. They were satisfied with keeping me from the dam.” | ‘“ Are they striking for higher pay?” ‘““ They’re striking to keep the dam from being finished. They’re gathered to keep the gates from being closed.” ; “Easy,” nodded Marshal Vance. “Il swear in twenty boys I know, and we'll make short work of that gang. Say the word, and swear to the necessity, Garth, and I'll have those gated closed in twenty minutes.” “With an armed force?” ‘““Only way to handle the greasers. I know ’em!” ‘““T know them also,” said Garth, ‘“ and there’s one subject that they value more than their lives.” “Eh? Their religion?” ‘“ Right!.° I’ve heard chatterings of it since last night. Some devil has spread the word among the Mexicans that if they let the dam be completed the rising of the waters will cover San Vicente up the valley, and the soul of every man who has worked on the dam will be lost. They’re fright- ened oyt of their wits, and they'll fight as men fight to save their souls.” “Then,” barked the marshal, “ there’s only one thing to do. Call in the State militia.” “The moment you show armed force, Vance,” said Garth, “‘ those fellows will use dynamite, and blow the dam from its foun- dations.” Original fro n 5 HUE DOOLK