Argosy All-Story Weekly — "The Purple Limited" — page 164: what you’re looking at

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

730 loins sunk to the ground. Still he fought, lashing desperately, right and left with the great horns, his body swaying in futile ef- forts to rise. With a howl of triumph Crooked Fang, master of the pack—greedy for the kill—leaped in and fastened his teeth in the jugular of the still unconquered victim. With a supreme burst of courage —by his strong will alone, almost—Shag staggered to his feet, the giant head swung up, the King of the Loafers was lifted high in the air as the teeth tore from their hold on the throat ofthe K-Bar steer, and the hot blood gushed like a fountain of death from the ragged wound—for one instant Crooked Fang sprawled on the ground— quick as the lightning flash a mighty horn drove through the entrails of the ferocious, the cunning one and pinned his writhing, dying body to the earth. Never again would Crooked Fang send out the call to the hunt! When the first red flush of morning spread over the crest of Capaline, the dead volcano, Shag fell, and under pis breast was the calf of Red One—avenged. There it was, between the basalt cliff and the edge of the Purgatory. Mateo San- doza, the wood-gatherer, came, six days later, and found the clean stripped bones of the Great Steer, what was left also of the small calf, and the skeletons of the five wolves, yet Mateo, dreaming of love, saw only the wealth the beautiful horns would bring, and by which he and Nanita, the wonderful one, she with the dark eyes, the 1235 THIS IS THE ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, slender body, and the lips—would be able to go to the padre. He knew not that it was the horns of Shag, the degenerate, the pariah—he who had yielded to the loco, the plant diablo—chopped by his ax from the fleshless skull. Nor do those who ad- mire them, to this day, in the cantina La Baca, know. Yet, later, weeks afterward, another came to the little cove. The Red One having escaped, after being driven far beyond the border by: the rust- lers, came again to the Llano de Gato, tired and worn thin,.by the journey—for. the sands of Mexico burn the feet and grass is- scarce and but little water may be found— yet she returned—and there, in the little cove she found the bones; the skull of Shag, and though the lizards now play over it, and the centipedes take refuge under it, when paisano—the road-runner— pashes that way—she, the Red One, mourned piteously! Though the beautiful horns were ‘gone; though no flesh covered the white, crumb- ling shell in which one time dwelt the tor- tured brain of Shag—who shall say the Red One did not know? * _ Or who can say that the soul of Shag— the great K-Bar steer—purified, perhaps, by the manner of his death, glorified, it may be by his courage at the end—did not see the sorrow of Red One and rejoice in it—finding in her grief the promise that some time, somewhere, in the endless whirl of eternity, they, too, may meet again. ALL-STORY WEEKLY SERIAL TO BE PUBLISHED IN BOOK FORM THE FLYING LEGION BY GEORGE ALLAN ENGLAND Author of ‘‘ Cursed,’® ‘* The Gift Supreme,’ ‘‘ Darkness and Dawn,’’ ‘‘ The Albi,”’ ete. Wat better companion and guide than George Allan England could one have on a vicarious trip into the golden land of romance? His work breathes the very spirit of adven- ture, territory on old earth’s surface. imagination knows no boundaries. In this new story he takes us on a venturesome quest into the heart of the great desert of Arabia, perhaps the most unknown of any large What happens rane the moment that the gallant members of the Flying Legion soar into the sky above New York in their giant airplane will give you several hours of entertaining and exciting reading. December 20, 1910.) (ALL-Story WEEKLY, November 15 to _ Published in book form by A. C. McClurg & Co., Chicago, 1920. Pricee$!.90 net. ¢ OOO) (C(O) S (C(O) nn