Argosy, Vol. 120, No. 1 — page 144: what you’re looking at

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

'134 from his eyes, and his great mass crushed him like an elephant. Slithering, straining, blood spurting from Bardwell’s nose, they whirled into the cor- ner. A cold mass beneath the gunman ground into his shoulder. It was his auto- matic. He twisted hke a ferret, reached back and got it. Again, before he could aim, Lacey had the wrist. A flirt of his arm and the hand was limp, then empty. . Bodily he seized Bardwell and flung him the length of the cabin, just as a farmer slings a sack of meal. Turning, Lacey stooped to gather up the gun, went dizzy; crumpled in a heap, his bowed figure covering it. Like a gigantic hand had come the clutch of the drug again, hammering his brain, compressing it, stifling consciousness. It filled him with one mad frenzy—the longing for sleep. It was as though a legion of wild horses weré tugging at his soul, trying to tear it loose from his body. Alone in a great desert he struggled against them and held it. But the agony in his head was driving him in- sane. His cheeks and tongue ran blood where he had bitten them. Of the frozen air that bellied in the door he sucked in killing gasps, but still he could not get enough to fill the emptiness of his lungs or to cool the Sweat that sluiced down from his face. - Vaguely, afar off and through a fog, he perceived that Bardwell had gotten up and was creeping forward. A bludgeon of fire- wood was in his hand. Still ghostlike and far away, Lacey saw him lift it up to strike. He raised his hands—slowly, doubtfully. There was a thud, an aching somewhere on his head and arms. Then, like the sun breaking through a cloud, came a swift momentary flash of strength, and he was aware, dreamwise, of the flabby flesh once more between his hands. Lacey gripped him, worried him, and flung him into blackness. Silence came. Lacey could never tell how long. He drifted through a sea of doubt, half reality,- half nightmare. Al- ways there was the screaming cry for sleep, for sleep. Madly he fought to pull himself up and out, but every sensation sloughed pff into vagary and haze. Only, far in the THE ARGOSY. rear of his subconscious brain, something, heaven sent, held fast to the one reality of wakefulness and fight. The rest was a dream forever after. There were other charges, other fights. Groggy, blinded, dripping foam and crim- son from his lips, Lacey, like a gigantic ter- rier, shook and pummeled the gunman’s ratty body. Presently Bardwell ceased to charge, and the other in instinct, went in search of him. It seemed sometimes, in ‘later days, that he could recall that dimly. But he never could visualize the final meet- ing, the eventful settlement. After a desert of empty time had passed, Lacey glimmered back to life. He was ly- ing on the floor of the ruined cabin. It was very still, and through the open door the night air, murderous with chill, poured steadily. He was not as cold as he might have been—only his finger-tips and toes were frost-nipped. ‘ The reason was that he had a covering over the middle of his body. It was a mass from which the natural warmth had quite departed. The clothing was ribboned, the features unrecognizable. It was startlingly like a huge rat that has met its end in bat- tle with a terrier. And it was terribly still. Lacey, shuddering as with fever, heaved off the mass, sat up and listened. Outside, . the dogs, as always, were howling to the Stars. It was very cold, and they had no shelter. They were impatient to be off. In a moment ‘Lacey was at their backs. The sled was already packed. Even to the last grain of gold dust that he had won the night before. Silently, not cursing as is the custom of the usual driver, the big man, trembling so that he could scarcely stand, got them at last into the harness and out on the trail. - The snow was very soft, so that he had to go ahead and break a path. The work was hard, but it did him good and kept thoughts out of his mind. Overhead the moon was brilliant, but it did not outblaze the banners of the aurora to the north. The trail led straight into it, and despite the night, there was light enough. Making no sound, not even to the dogs who followed close, the big man walked on, bowed and not looking back. — “CLOT ALT LOIN