The Argosy, Vol. 75, No. 4 — page 134: what you’re looking at

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

336 ‘“[—I—say, whut hev ye got to say?’ he asked uncertainly. ‘TI say this hyah chap’s puttin’ up a purty good bluff; but it won’t work!” was Watson’s reply, but it seemed to lack assurance for the sheriff. “T got the wire from the police de- partment uv New York. They wuz a reward uv ten thousand dollars offered fur the arrest—” “ You’re paying a big price for your fun, Mr. Watson,” Ted scoffed. Gill was taking no part in the con- versation. ‘The deputy, who had come in with the others and stood a silent but keenly observant spectator of the scene, kept his eyes fixed on Watson with an intentness that was somewhat disconcerting to its recipient. Ted turned to the sheriff. Rapidly, and with a telling effectiveness that momentarily reduced the officer to fur- ther depths of uncertainty about which of the two men really was the crim- inal, he told of the killing of Bullen as is appeared to him. Watson stood and listened. Gill shifted uneasily. The deputy did not give up his intent gazing. As he finished the sheriff acted. Without a warning of his intention, he declared Watson under arrest as a suspicious character. 2 Gill fairly snorted with wrath. But a look from Watson silenced him, “ We'll settle this,’ Watson said. “ You may arrest me; but—I warn you you'll regret it.” “All right. We'll let it go thata- way! I ain’t goin’ to run no risks. I[ kin find out more ’bout this hyah busi- ness in a day ur so. Come on!”’ Watson turned and followed the sheriff. Radford was left under the espionage of the deputy. The door had scarcely closed on the others when he came close to Ted. “Say, young feller, ye’re off about that bein’ Al Watson. I knowed Wat- son. I wuz his guard at San Quentin. That ain’t him.”’ “It’s got to be Watson!” Radford exclaimed after an instant’s thought. THE ARGOSY. “Frenchy Phillipe and Nick Bullen and Al Watson were the ones who lo- cated the Cochinino Mine. Frenchy and Bullen are dead. It’s got to be Watson.” “ Whut’s the Cochinino Mine?” the guard asked. “It’s around here somewhere,” ‘Ted answered, seeing that the guard was inclined to be agreeable to him and willing to encourage the acquaintance. “Not on yer tintype! I’ve bin ‘round hyah fur more’n six years an’ they ain’t a mine uv that name in the country.” Radford looked at him, and saw he spoke from knowledge and with con- viction. se “ You mean there’s not a mine here —why, it’s got to be here!”’ he began and interrupted himself to exclaim. The deputy backed away a little. He even felt for the gun in his belt. “Say, ye seem to think things hev got to be like they ain’t, jes’ ’c’us’ ye say they are!” he observed, wondering if this strong young man were not touched in the head with the weakness that was noticeable for its absence everywhere else about him. Radford had no time for a reply. He heard a shouting! outside which sounded like music to him. It was the grand, great voice of Big Red, raised to dominate the throb and hiss of ma-_ chinery. “Whar ye at, Radford? ”’ Radford leaped to the grated win- dow of the building that did duty as a storehouse when it was not distin- guished by the presence of a prisoner. He yelled a welcome to Red that could be heard above all the noise. Watson had had a brief conference with the sheriff. He had asked a chance to speak to the prisoner in the storehouse alone. The sheriff had brought him to the door and opened it when Ted’s voice informed Red of his whereabouts. In an instant the way that the sheriff seemed disposed to contest was literally beaten open by Red’s big fists. GEomichoo S (E@)