The Argosy, Vol. 82 No. 2 — page 119: what you’re looking at

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

THE OLD WEST Yet he jumped us some fierce for not de- stroyin’ the plug hat, and fin’ly he up and destroys it himself. I wouldn’t ’a’ believed it if I hadn’t ’a’ seen it. ‘“‘We couldn’t be expected to take sich liberties with a friend 0’ Robbins’s, and him a jedge. ’Course, if the jedge was one 0’ Castle’s crowd, and playin’ the game with us here, we might have—” Bang, bang, bang! Smedders was inter- rupted by a barking revolver and a patter of hoofs up the road. Jumping from the bench, the cowboy and the ‘Tenderfoot threw startled glances in the direction whence the sounds came. “Oh,” grunted Smedders, dropping back on his seat, “it’s only Perdue earnin’ his salary.” The little disturber was racing along be- tween the adobes, a revolver in each hand and his horse at a run. He fired in the air as he came, and presently he began to yell. The noise he made was out of all proportion to his size, and he sounded a lot more for- midable than he looked. “T seen Robbins give him blanks for-his guns,’ commented Smedders, ‘‘and heerd him tell Perdue when he was to pull this off. Wonder if it’ll seem real to the jedge?” “Don’t sit there, Smedders!”’ said Reeves. ‘“‘We’ve got to potter around and appear ex- cited; if we don’t, we won’t be earning our own salaries. I’ll run across the street while you make a bluff at trying to stop Perdue.” “Aw, shucks!” grunted Smedders, who was just ready to smoke and take his com- fort. “Voupi, yi, yi!” howled the charging “bad” man. “I’m the hootin’, totin’ ole Bengal tager from the wilds o’ Bad Ax County! I’m the coiled-up sidewinder, soundin’ my rattles an’ gittin’ ready ter strike! I’m the roarin’, ring-tailed twister from the windy hills, and when I happen along folks has got ter take ter their cyclone cellars or be blowed from the face o’ the y’arth. D’ye hear me comin’? Scatter, ever body, scatter!”’ Reeves pawed at the front door of the Bazar, but found it locked. Ma Bobbett, who always took her part well, screamed wildly. Crowding against the mud wall of the store, Reeves turned and watched the Forty-Niners running to cover. Smedders came into the road, waving his hands and shouting. The trouble-maker nearly ran him down. Whirling his horse, PER CONTRACT. 301 Perdue made another try at Smedders, and the latter rushed for the hotel. Bang, bang! The blank cartridges ex- ploded with noise and fury. “T’m the ole Bad Ax River an’ I’m swellin’ my banks!” bawled Perdue, in his best style; “I’m a ragin’ wolf from the wilderness an’ gittin’ ready to devour! Hunt yer holes, you other varmints, an’ le’me be! Whoop-ya!”’ By that time Perdue was back in front of Kl Rio Rey. There he dropped out of his saddle, slipped a fresh supply of “blanks” into his guns and bolted through the honka- tonk door. Gentleman Jim fell through a window, while Pop Handy and Billy Vince came wildly out at the rear of the building. Crash! crash! Some empty bottles, care- fully placed, were smashed on the saloon floor. “Help!” cried Pop Handy dismally, tot- tering around in the street and looking for shelter. Billy Vince ran toward the marshal’s office. “Golshaw! Golshaw!” he whooped at every bound. A terrific racket came from within El Rio Rey. Although carefully made, it was a very realistic racket, and seemed to indicate that Perdue was wrecking the entire establish- ment. Two forms emerged from the judge’s quarters. One wore cowhide boots, cordu- roy trousers and flannel shirt. Cowld that be the judge? It seemed impossible, and yet one look at the glittering eyes under the bushy brows convinced Reeves that the man was really the judge in his Old Western clothes. Robbins was trying to hold him back, and Gentleman Jim and Pop Handy were lend- ing their own frantic persuasions, but all without effect. The judge rushed for El Rio Rey. “T’m the crack o’ doom!” came in furi- ous tones from inside the honkatonk; ‘I’m the Ole Bad Ax volcaner an’ about to erupt! Hear me rumble!” Just then*the judge threw himself through the door and the noise was redoubled in volume. From every direction Forty-Niners began rushing to the scene. Castle was run- ning at top speed and Golshaw was close behind him. ‘Why didn’t you keep the judge out of this, Robbins?” panted Castle. ‘““He’s harder to manage than Old Jack’s Gomichboo (CG <S (C@)