Argosy, Vol. 120, No. 1 — page 143: what you’re looking at

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

| a oe ge eee AN HOUR OF DAYLIGHT, tenderfoot that drifted in from God knows where and hung around the dives. “The day Toby pulled out, this one dis- appeared. Nobody ever saw him again, but an Indian that drifted m at sundown allowed he ‘had seen him on the trail, ten miles out, and going strong. Might have, might not; those devils are awful liars. “Well, anyway, Ramsdell never got there. Something—somebody—did for him between McPherson’s and Forty Mile. Probably the wolves got him when he camped. Funny, though, about the gold. Don’t suppose you' heard anything about him, did you, Bardwell, coming through this way?” -As if by common impulse, both men had risen to their feet. Bradwell’s automatic hovered half out of the holster. His fn- ger-tips about it were squeezed white. La- cey still bit the cigar between his hps and his thumbs hooked over the slack of his belt. . Bardwell was the first to speak. His voice snarled and grated like a wildcat’s: “ What in hell are you getting at? What do you mean, you— Are you trying to accuse me—” - Lacey tossed his cigar to the stove top. His face was suddenly set like iron in a mold. The muscles under.his great shoul- ders heaved like burrowmg animals. “When Toby Ramsdell’s wife was a girl—before she married him—her name was Lacey, My sister. Down at the fort, when I got in, they told me all they knew. They thought you might make the pass before I caught you. I said I’d get you, this side or the other, heaven, earth, or hell. that night I looked things over. “Those dog harnesses have got T. R. burned into every one. My brother-in- law's. That watch under your bunk mat- tress my wife’s father, when he died, gave to her husband. You are a murderer, Bardwell. You shot Ramsdell im cold blood from ambush. - You're the man I swore to catch, by God, and now—” 3. Bardwell’s gun had flashed, but the fat man was quicker. Like a tiger he hurdled the table, crushed him against the timbered wall, and jammed the muzzle up. With a \ I did. When you were dead drunk | 133 1 single twist he wrenched it from his grasp and threw it in the corner. “‘ Not that, you coward! God's life, for once you'll do with what your Maker gave you and no more. A fair fight, hand to hand, and hell swallows the—”’ A sudden tremor ran through him. He broke off speaking; his grasp slackened, and an expression of bewilderment clouded his eyes. His hand Swept his forehead, His cheeks had become ashen. His eyelids wavered, the mouth corners quivered curi- ously into a grimace. Bardwell felt back a step and laughed. ‘What were you saying, Lacey?” he ' taunted. “ Don’t stop. I’m listening. Did you say you wanted a fight? I’m ready whenever you are.” The big man had been wavering. It was clear that 2 moment more would finish him, His knees were water. He staggered blind- ty as he chutched out for support. “ But at the sound of Bardwell’s gibes a thrill swept over him. His eyes focused from nowhere into the other’s, burning with frozen scorn. Miraculously he stiffened, In the throes of the struggle for mastery his face worked frightfully and perspiration gathered and rolled down from it. ‘. It was perhaps an eternity-long two sec- onds that they confronted each other, si- .lent, Bardwell charmed out of the idea of movement by the horror of the thing, La- cey fighting, ruthlessly brutal, against him- self. Suddenly his eyes cleared. His fingers gripped spasmodically. It was as though. an electric shock had momentarily galvan- ized him back to vigor. ‘“'You—you doped me!” he cried. Hig voice was still soft but frightful in its loath- mg. “You planned to get me, too, you hell-spawned coward! You hadn’t the nerve to shoot, but potson—” Without a backward look he swept an arm behind him, knocking up the door- catch, flinging it open and admitting a flood of tingling air. He inhaled deeply, draw- ing his lips back from his teeth. Bardwell, caught off his guard, flung up his arms td ward off the plunging mass that hurtled af tim from three feet of distance, but La- cey’s fists, working like flails, beat sight ° . oary \ c nN GO mlGoOo () <SE C@