The Argosy, Vol. 82, No. 3 — page 194: what you’re looking at

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

Y Jo HEN a man sees his wife’s face Wy slapped by a ragged, half-drunken tramp, the sight is sufficient to make his blood boil. It filled Jeff Miller, who saw the thing done, with murderous rage. His hand darted to his hip. He half withdrew his revolver from its holster. And then—he hesitated. ; To drop in his tracks ‘the dirty greaser,” who had dared lay violent hands on his Bess, would have been an easy mat- ter for the Arizona ranchman, who was a crack shot. But would that help her? This ques- tion, put to himself, stayed Miller’s hand. Slowly, reluctantly, he let the weapon slide back into its place. No, he couldn’t shoot. That gang, three hundred strong, would get him if he did and butcher him. Then Bess and the kid would be left help- less in their hands. The American stepped quickly back out of sight around the side of the hill. At last the thing he and his wife had been dreading for months had happened. A band of Villa’s outlaws had crossed the Mexican frontier into United States terri- tory. Returning in the middle of the after- noon from the town, some miles away, he had found his homestead surrounded and his wife made a prisoner. Jeff Miller’s eyes darted to right and left, like a trapped animal’s. He hadn’t ene NEEM hn Blunt MAGIEAT re Qectek tt yasaree fallen into the clutches of the,murderous rabble—yet. He might have had he not heard the murmur of many voices and stolen on foot around the hill to investi- gate. Now he would return to the buck- board, whip up his horse, and hurry back to town for help. But—while he was gone, what would the Mexicans be doing with Bess and the youngster ? Probably, after looting the ranch-house and setting fire to it, they would take the woman and the baby back with them across the frontier. It was unthinkable. If only there was some way that he could get word to the town while he re- mained to watch the reckless mob and see the direction they took when they de- parted— Jeff struck his fist softly in his palm. He had it! The horse, headed for the town, would find its way alone along the road toward it. It usually did that when he or his wife were in the buckboard. So well had it come to know the way that neither of them needed to use the reins to guide it. Starting toward the wagon, Jeff pulled his memorandum-book from his _ vest- pocket, and with it the stub of a pencil. Tearing a blank sheet from the book, he scribbled on it an explanation of what had happened, with a request that help be sent out at once. Then he fastened the note to the dash- 568 (E(0) DOOKS (C@)