The Argosy, Vol. 82, No. 3 — page 171: what you’re looking at

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

THE OLD WEST Reeves half-lifted Lady Ann to his side, and led her from the house. He was scarcely less excited than the girl herself, but he had a firm faith in Judge Brand. The camp was dark, and no one was to be seen in the squalid little street. Reeves and Lady Ann had almost reached the door of the Bazar before either of them spoke. “Do you care to tell me anything about Rayner’s demand for the money, Lady Ann?” Reeves asked, softly. “Only one thing, Marty,” said the girl. “Ezra Bobbett did something wrong, years and years ago, and Jim Rayner knows about it.” “Oh!” Reeves murmured. ‘Well, no one needs to worry now. Judge Brand, I think, is wiser than we know, and he has given his pledge that no harm will come to you or Ezra Bobbett through Gentleman Jim. Good night, mujercita! Don’t fret about this any longer.” She clung to him as he kissed her, and gently he disengaged her hands and opened the Bazar door. She passed into the dark little shop uncertainly, and Reeves turned away and slowly retraced his steps in the direction of the judge’s adobe. He was giving his whole mind to the problem so suddenly presented by Lady Ann. Midway between the gloomy and de- serted honkatonk and the glowing front windows of the judge’s, two wraithlike fig- ures started up beside the path. They rose into view seemingly out of the solid ground, and with no warning of any kind. Reeves, his head bowed in thought, did not see the skulking forms until too late. A blow fell. The Tenderfoot staggered and tried to reach out with his hands. A bewildered cry escaped his lips. Then there was another blow, and another. Reeves crumpled downward, blank dark- ness rolled over his brain, and his senses fled. CHAPTER VIII. THE POCKET. HE Tenderfoot awoke as from a bad dream. He was lying on his back, his face upturned to the sky. The stars, bright as daggers, seemed to plunge their beams through his eyes and pierce his brain. There was a fierce throbbing at the back Ir A PER CONTRACT. 545 of his head, and his wits were confused. Picking up the chain of events where he had dropped it, he believed he was still in the camp. Two men had made a sudden and unprovoked attack upon him, and he had been struck down in his tracks. “Judge!” he called waveringly; “Judge Brand!” He knew the judge must be waiting for him at the adobe, and he believed his voice would carry. The call was not answered, however, and painfully he raised himself to a sitting posture. A wall of blank darkness hemmed him in on all sides. This puzzled him. Where was the light in the judge’s windows? He knew he ought to see that; and he knew he ought to get up and go on to the judge, who was waiting for him. He made an attempt to get his feet under him, but his muscles went limp, and he fell back. Demons of torment were ham- mering at his brain, and he experienced least pain when lying at full length. He closed his eyes again. His second awakening was in broad day- light. He felt cramped and stiff, and his head continued to ache. But his brain was clearer, and more capable of dealing with the situation. A shock of surprise followed when he sat up and looked around. He was not in Nugget Notch, after all. Gloomy wall surrounded him; they were not half the height of the gulch walls, how- ever. Furthermore, they were on all sides of him. He drew a hand across his bewildered eves. Where was he? ‘The place was one he had never seen before. On right and left the walls were separated by a space of perhaps two hundred feet; the other way the distance between them would have had to be measured in rods. Flat ground filled the bottom of the basin, and it was scantily covered with mesquite bushes. A bit of a creek ran down the middle of the queer arroyo, flowing from the base of one cliff and into the foot of another. The walls at every point were precipitous, in some places overhanging. Here and there they were festooned with creepers and masked with scragely growths of greasewood and cactus. | Reeves crawled to the creek. So small was the stream that he could have jumped across it. The water was cold, and he lifted it in his cupped hands and splashed it over ECORMICLOOO (SC <S) (C@