Argosy, Vol. 118, No. 2 — page 147: what you’re looking at

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

CROSSROADS. the square, to the left from the door. She holds also another horse, very tall. It is the horse of Seflor Van Dyck.” “ Good,” nodded the white man, and El Tigre stepped out into the hall and walked with a swift step down toward the jailer. Outside, by a strange freak of chance, some of the Mexican mob had raised the strains of their song: La Paloma—The Dove. Others took it up; soon the song was ringing from scores of throats. The occasion seemed to have become one of national spirit for the greasers. The jailer in the hall, waiting with beat- ing heart for the coming of the mob, had so far fortified himself against the crisis, that he was now past the stage of any fear. He raised hi§ flask to his lips again and then leaned back in his chair, singing in time with the crowd outside and beating the rhythm with his half-empty flask. As E] Tigre reached him the song out- side swept toward the close and even be- fore it came to an end a single voice yelled shrilly. It was like the whoop of an Indi- an, and was answered by a dull roar of rage; a patter of feet began, and the jailer sprang up. He started back at the sight of El Tigre. “For God’s sake, they are coming!”’ he cried. ‘‘ Protect me, El Tigre.” Tt is true,” said the Indian. is thirsty.” He took the flask from the hand of the unfortunate jailer, raised it toward his lips, and then completed the movement by swinging it sharply to the right. It struck the head of the jailer, crashed in a thou- sand pieces, and after he had stared a stupid second at the tall form of the Indian the Mexican sank in a formless heap on the floor. At the same instant the night be- yond tne open door was black with faces— black, for every man wore a-mask. “ Now!” cried El Tigre, and Dix Van Dyck leaped into the hall. First to enter the hall, and leaders of the mob, were the tall form of Garcia and a stocky man beside him. They carried rifles. As for those behind the leaders, the majori- ty brought no weapons whatever. . The word had been passed by Garcia that weapons were not wanted at this festival. “ El Tigre All that was needed would be numbers to conceal identity, for a hundred men might do safely what six would never risk. Moreover, if many were armed there would be great chances that one of them would send a bullet into the captive before he could be taken to the fire. For these and others reasons Garcia had issued his suggestion about arms, and the majority had followed his order. They had expected a helpless captive; instead, they saw the most feared» man on the range be- fore them, armed to the teeth. Yet they were courageous men, and quick with their weapons. In spite of the unnerving surprise they jerked their weap- ons to their shoulder and fired. But both were wild, and Van Dyck, standing tall and confident with the courage of the desperado who dares not miss, fired twice in return. Garcia sank to the floor without a word, but his squat, broad-shouldered compan- ions, tore at his face with both hands and staggered back through the open door, screaming horribly. He had been shot through the mouth. Moreover, his fall blocked the way of those behind, and threw the leaders into confusion. They had not dreamed of re- sistance; actually to encounter it deprived them of their wits in the crisis. Before they could recover the Indian was at the door. He leaped low—among their very legs—and dropping his revolver he swung his heavy knife and buried it to the hilt again and again. Shrieks answered him, shrieks, and the beginning of a panic. Those behind halted, dumfounded at the check; those in front switled back with the picture of red death before them. Before they could recover the bull-like bellow of Dix Van Dyck ran on them, like thunder, and the big man leaped through the door into their midst, a gun barking in each hand. Firing into that compacted swarm the bullets could not miss. They ploughed their way through solid walls of flesh. The shrieking rose to a ghastly crescen- do. Those in front turned their backs on the horror in mad terror and fought to dive into the safety of the mob; they made a CORMICLCKe) 297 <S) (E@)