The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 1 — page 110: what you’re looking at

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

100 wuz always around, and if iver one of thim wuz caught red-handed, by some means, the others would be there to swear their black souls away, or if nade be to make a fight for it. “First and last there’s few places in the territory where I haven’t been. If I’ve seen one man killed, I’ve seen a hundred. But most ivery time I’ve found a man with a bullet in the back ‘of his ’ head, or heard of a hold up, it’s always been near to the time some of that Es- peranza outfit was round. And yet the divils are wise! There ain’t no one in the territory as can say he knows for cer- tain. I’m thinkin’ that if any one gets so he knows, he don’t live long enough to say much.” “How long have they had Esperanza for their headquarters?” asked Gerard. “Nigh onto six years,” replied Moran. “Now there’s another case— Poor old ‘ Tennessee Bob,’ he located three claims, and one day Symmonds goes up there to look them over. I don’t suppose any one iver will know just what happened. - Symmonds sez as how he shot himself. Anyhow there was poor Bob lying with a gun in his hand, and a big hole in his temple. The hole was in the left temple at that! But West Symmonds he was and is sheriff here, and he sticks to the story. ~““Man, that crowd are getting out great piles of ore from poor old Bob’s claims. No one really knows how rich they are, for they pass their men double wages, and even thim chattering Mexi- cans will keep quiet if you pays ’em enough!” At last Moran’s practised eye de- termined on a site where the outcrop- pings showed strong promise and they’ abandoned ax and pick for sledge and drill. Alternating as driller and churner they sank their first hole, to the depth of the third size drill. When Moran returned from the maga- zine carrying the camel-colored sticks of dynamite, his face wore a troubled ex- pression. THE ARGOSY. “It’s only about forty sticks there is left,” he observed, “ and we can’t keep going long on thim. However, we'll do what we can, and the blessed saints be with us!” He slit two “sticks” with his knife and deftly inserted the fuse. : “It’s clumsy,’’ he muttered, “to fire a hole without a battery, but wera she’ll go all right.” He set the fuse, then tamped the sticks lightly into the hole with a wooden tamping rod, and carefully closed the edges with dirt and loose rock. Fish- ing in his pockets he produced a card of sulfur matches and breaking one off from the row, struck it on his trousers, then applied the lighted end to the ten- foot fuse which hissed and sputtered like a thing alive. He and Gerard crawled beneath a neighboring ledge to await the “ shot.” When the smoke of the explosion had cleared away, Moran peered into the great cleft in the earth with quiet satis- faction. “Give a man powder enough and time enough and he could let the people down in hell loose,” he exclaimed. “Suppose we call it half a day and quit,’’ he continued. “It must be close tc five and supper about ready.” Gerard readily assented, and they went back to the shack. Nancy greeted them with cheerful reports of her assay- ing, declaring that the copper had run the highest of any that they had yet struck, with almost four dollars silver and gold to the ton, in addition to the copper. Moran, with the good habits of one brought up to a life of toil, betook him- self to bed shortly after supper. He lifted the key to the magazine from its accustomed hook and slipped it into his pocket. ‘“There’s not as much powder there as I wish there was,” he remarked as he went out, “ but I’ll sleep the better for having the key_under me pillow.” When he had gone Gerard questioned conniclooolkks (C@)