Argosy, Vol. 111, No. 1 — page 37: what you’re looking at

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

AVALANCHE TACTICS. “‘ How’s that?” he cried, his head thrust forward aggressively. ‘IT was trying to say,” replied the undis- turbed Dex, “‘ that your assault on Agent Farley was contemptible. Is that word clear enough?”’ With a kind of snarl Bode leaped at Mitchell. The agent swerved, swiftly and smoothly, dodging to one side as he had dadged many a vicious tackler on the grid- iron. But as Dex whirled about and start- ed to straighten up, a chair swung through the air and one of its stout legs crashed upon his head. Without a sound the agent dropped to the floor, stunned. Immediately Kehoe flung himself upon the fallen man, a hoarse rumbling coming from his lips. With one hand he clutched Dex’s throat; his other hand he raised in air to strike, fingers clenched. “Yowl not touch him,” said a quiet voice behind the raging, exultant Kehoe. Bode knew that voice. Fist still in mid- air, he twisted his head about, astonished. As Rehoe had leaped at Mitchell the door at the rear of the store had opened noiselessly, and Lister’s daughter had stepped in, unnoticed by the crowd, who had eyes and ears but for the action be- fore them. As Kehoe had leaped she had seen Mitchell dodge, and had seen, then, one of Bode’s followers snatch up the chair behind the agent’s back and strike Dexter over the head wickedly. “Get up!’ commanded Lister’s daugh- ter as the amazed Kehoe still remained motionless. Her voice, while unhurried, was filled with something that snapped and stung. ‘You’d strike a man when he’s down!” she continued, each word like the sting ‘of a rawhide quirt. ‘A man who was put down not by yourself even, but by one. of your helpful friends.” Her eyes, cold as bits of ice, she lifted from Kehoe and fastened upon a thin- faced, wavering-eyed creature, now lurking in the rear of the circle of men. ‘‘ You, Hoxie—I saw vou do it! You're a sneak!” She pointed to the door at the front of the store: ‘‘ Get out!”’ A dead silence had fallen over the gath- ering. Cal Lister stood close behind his 27 daughter. Without delay and without a word Hoxie slunk out the door. Kehoe, by this time, had got to his feet, sullen and silent. On the floor the agent stirred slightly; his eyelids quivered with returning consciousness. The girl looked at Kehoe again. ‘“You’d better go, too!” she said, her voice still as low-pitched as when she first spoke. Kehoe’s countenance flamed hotly. He seemed to squirm. There was an air of finality to her words that was unmistak- able. ‘““T didn’t—” he began desperately. “You did!” she interrupted coldly. She looked at the door. “I’m waiting.” Kehoe turned, stalked to the door, and passed out. One by one the others of the crowd quickly followed, silently, uneasily, sensing in some way that it would not be well to tarry. As the last man made his exit, Mitchell’s eyes opened, bewilderedly. Jessie stooped, then spoke to her father. ‘““Get me some water, please. He’ll be all right in a few minutes, I think.” VI. “But why did you do it?” asked the Corners’ new agent. Seated in a big chair in Lister’s living- room, he regarded Lister’s daughter where she sat in a low rocker by the side of the blazing fireplace. It was not half an hour after Dexter had regained. consciousness. Lister himself was not in the room. Some- where out in the store he was pottering about, closing up. ‘““T was afraid,” she replied frankly. “I know how reckless the men around here— some of them—are. So I followed, shortly after you went out.” ‘And you saw this Hoxie hit me with the chair?” She nodded assent. “Yes. I'll Say, though, his doing that was more than I ex- pected. I hadn’t thought any of them would be so—so treacherous.”’ He was silent for a little time, gazing into the fireplace at the glowing logs. Save for a slightly sore spot on top of his head he felt as good as ever. CONMUC NOOLK CO