Argosy All-Story Weekly — "The Purple Limited" — page 158: what you’re looking at

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

loco. It is the insidious, ever-pres- ent temptation of the open plains. It lurks, a queerly delicate, velvety-look- ing, light-colored plant among the tufts of bunch grass at the edge of the cactus beds, or, sometimes it is found crowding closely against the roots of the Spanish dagger. Always the loco is the curse— As the mirrahuana masters the Yaqui, as the mescal fills with unholy passion the peon of Sonora or Jalisco; as the opium, the morphin, or the chloral makes slaves of men, so does the loco, the weed diablo, lure the cattle and horses of the broad Ilanos with its seductive charms, after the first foolish taste, until it entices them to utter ruin. . V x strange and treacherous is the In the thick clump of willows by the lit- tle seep on the slope of Sentinel Mountain, not far above the smooth sand-beach of the Cimmaron, Shag began his life. There it was that Brown Sides, the beautiful heifer that gave him birth, sought shelter to bring, unmolested by the others of the herd, and safe from the eyes of prowling wolf or co- yote, her first calf into the world. For three days the young cow, with her won- derful calf, remained in the thicket where the miracle of life had come. Then, the time being June, and the sea- son dry, the seep failed. The water was gone from the little spring. Another three days without drink and Brown Sides, the fever of maternity still on her, with a low- ' move. 724 moaned warning to Shag to lie hidden till she returned, tried to reach the thin stream trickling in the narrow channel of the Cim- maron, a dozen yards beyond the white beach of quick-sand. Shag saw her die. In silent, wide-eyed dread he looked on while Brown Sides was drawn slowly, sure- ly, down by the death that lay beneath the smooth, seemingly innocent beach of the Cimmaron. Once, answering her frantic struggles, he started to go to her—his soft hoofs barely touched the treacherous bar when an an- gry bellow, a rebuke in which was the ter- ror and agony of mother love, sent him ‘ack to the thicket and safety. It was his first lesson, and Shag did not forget. . Silently he lay among the willows and did not stir, but filled with wonder that the beautiful Brown Sides, the mother, did not come.- For two days more he kept in the cover. The nights were long, and in spite of himself he shook each time he heard the near or distant yelp of a coyote or the more terrifying howl-of the great loafer wolves when their deep-toned voices echoed from among the rocky cafions of Del Christo_ Yet he made no sound nor did he Something told him keen ears were Itstening, sharp eyes were watching, and that life itself—in those black hours—was the stake in a game of hide and seek. He ached with hunger. His dry tongue licked the sweat-beads from his black, satiny muz- range. COMIICoOoks (C(O)