Argosy, Vol. 120, No. 1 — page 99: what you’re looking at

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

THE TRAIL HORDE. a fight on the plains not far from the Two Bar. Antrim burned my buildings. Twenty-five thousand dollars for the build- ings, and ninety thousand for the cattle. That’s a total of one hundred and fifteen thousand—not to mention my men. “I’ve got no proof that you were im- plicated in the deal; but I’m convinced you planned it—that you got Antrim and his _ gang to do the work. That evidence doesn’t go in law, though, Warden—and you know it. But it’s enough for the kind of law that I am representing right now. It’s this!” He drew his gun with his left hand, tak-. ing it from the waistband of his trousers, where he had placed it when he had picked . it up at the Dickman cabin, and held it on the desk top, so that its dark muzzle gaped at Warden. For an instant Warden sat, staring in dread fascination into the muzzle of the weapon, his face dead white, his eyes wide with fear, naked, cringing. Then he spoke, his voice hoarse and quavering: “ This is murder, Lawler!” ‘Murder, Warden?” jeered Lawler. * One of my men was worth a dozen of you! ” Lawler laughed—a sound that brought an ashen pallor to Warden’s face; then he straightened, and turned, to face Shorty. He lurched to Shorty’s side, drew out one of the latter’s big guns, and tossed it upon the desk within reach of Warden’s hand. “I gave Antrim the first shot, Warden,” ” he said; “I gave him his chance. I didn’t murder him, and I won’t murder you. Take that gun and follow me to the street. There’s people there. They’ll see that it’s a square deal. You're a sneaking polecat, Warden; but you—I’m going to give you—” Lawler paused; his knees sagged. He tried to straighten, failed. And while both men watched him—Shorty with eyes that were terrible in their ineffable sympathy and impotent wrath; Warden in a paraly- sis of cold terror—Lawler lurched heavily - against the desk and slid gently to the floor, where he leaned, his eyes closed, against _ the desk, motionless, unconscious. 89 Silently, his eyes aflame with passion, Shorty leaped to the desk and snatched the gun that Lawler had placed at War- den’s hand. With almost the same move- ment he pulled Warden out of his chair and threw him against the rear wall of the room. He was after the man like a giant panther; catching him by the throat with his left hand as he reached him, crushing him against the wall so heavily that the im- pact jarred the building; while he savagely jammed the muzzle of the pistol deep into the man’s stomach, holding it there with venomous pressure, while his blazing eyes bored into Warden’s with ferocious ma- lignance. “Damn you, Warden,” he said hoarse- ly; “I ought to kill you!” He shook Warden with his left hand, as though the man were a child in his grasp, sinking his fingers into the flesh of his neck until Warden’s eyes popped out and his face grew purple. Then he released him so suddenly that Warden sank to his knees on the floor, coughing, laboring, straining to draw his breath. He stood, huge and menacing, until Warden got to his feet and staggered weak- ly to the chair in which he had been sit- ting when Lawler entered; and then he leaned over the desk and peered into War- den’s face. “It ain’t my game, damn you! If it was I’d choke the gizzard out of you an’ chuck you out of a window! I reckon I’ve got to save you for Lawler—if he gets over this. If he don’t, I’m comin’ for you!” He holstered his gun, stooped, lifted Lawler, and gently swung him over his shoulder; and without glancing back at Warden, strode to the stairs, out into the Street, and made his way to the Willets Hotel, a crowd of curious citizens at his heels. CHAPTER XXXIV. THE WAITING. ELLA WHARTON had watched from one of the front windows of her room in the hotel. She had seen Lawler and Shorty ride down the street to Warden’s -—- €© LDOOLKKS CO@