The Argosy, Vol. 82, No. 3 — page 184: what you’re looking at

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

558 The judge shook with mirth. “There’s pride for you,” said he, “the sort of pride that goes before a fall. There are the road agents, Reeves, and they’re not even going to spare old Jack.” Raynor and the don came galloping along the edge of the creek. The Ute stared at them as they pulled their horses to a stop. The two by the boulder were too far away to hear what was said, but the actions of the trio by the dug-out were sufficiently eloquent. Overawed by a revolver, the Indian dug the precious gold pieces out of a pocket and sullenly handed them over to Rayner. The loot went into the bulging saddlebags, and old Jack shouted fierce maledictions and indulged in a war dance as the robbers rode off. “Now it’s up to us, Reeves,” said the judge. “Remember what I have planned.” “Surely.” “Then keep down at the foot of the boulder and be ready to jump into the scrimmage and do your prettiest. I don’t believe I have lost the knack of throwing a rope, and I’m ready to bet a thousand against a chink wash-ticket that I snag the off-side man first crack.” “Tt will have to be the first time or not at all, judge,’ Reeves reminded him. “T understand that.” Judge Brand was perfectly cool. Coiled rope in hand, he climbed to a small foot- hold a yard up the side of the boulder; then, leaning back against the rock-surface behind him, he drew the wide noose away from the coils with his right hand. “Keep your eyes skinned, Reeves,” he directed, “and when the horses are within a dozen feet of me throw up a hand.” The Tenderfoot’s heart was pounding and the breath hung in his throat. Never - before had he been engaged in such grim business. He and the judge, with only their bare hands and a riata, were waiting to waylay two armed and desperate men! And one of those men would welcome an excuse for getting a shot at Reeves! A roaring as of the sea was in the Ten- derfoot’s ears. He was listening for a sound of hoofbeats in the trail, but he did not hear it. The riders came into range of his eyes without warning, spurring upward, their mounts at a rapid walk. Reeves lifted his right hand. The judge, planted on his perch, got the THE ARGOSY. wide noose in motion. Around and around it whirled, while he watched for the horses’ noses to show on the up-hill side of the big rock. At last he saw them. As luck would have it, the don, who rode on the farther,side, was a yard or more in advance of Gentle- man Jim. Neither rider had a thought of lurking danger. Everything favored the judge and his rope-throwing. With a soft whisper in the air the noose shot outward, downward. The hempen cir- cle hovered an instant over the don’s head, then fell below his shoulders and was jerked taut by a quick movement of the judge’s hand. Then, emitting a wild yell, the judge flung himself to the foot of the ironwood and made his half-hitch around the knotted trunk. The yell frightened the horses. The don’s mount broke into a run, and the saddle- bags flapped and jingled as the astounded don parted company with the saddle and was dragged sprawling into the trail. The judge’s plans failed in one important point, however. Gentleman Jim’s horse, under a tight rein, began to rear, so that the rope that had snared the don was powerless to entangle the Zambler. Here was the Tenderfoot’s big moment, and he rushed to take advantage of it. An oath broke from GentlemanJim’s lips when he saw Reeves darting toward him. A revolver barked spitefully, but the plung- ing horse made accurate shooting imposssi- ble, and the bit of lead struck the boulder and glanced singing into space. Another instant and Reeves had gripped the gambler by the knee and brought him heavily into the road. “Hang to him, Reeves!” shouted the judge. ‘“‘I’ll be with you as soon as I take care of the don!” The Tenderfoot had received a large order, but there could be no turning back; he had to make good or suffer the tragic consequences. He closed with Gentleman Jim in a life and death grip, hanging hard and close so the guns might not be brought into play. The blue eyes of the gambler were like pol- ished flint, and in them Reeves read his sentence—if that sentence could be carried out. In the dust of the trail the two men rolled, following the course of least resist- ance, which was down-grade. Their whirl- ing, dizzy gyrations carried them off the (E(0) WOOKS MAI (C@)