Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 5, 1921 — page 132: what you’re looking at

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

418 Light an’ Solly an’ me oughta be able to see that you leave town.” “We'll stick till Tim an’ the marshal comes,’”’ declared the practical Sam. “I know Timmy Osborne. We'll sce what he says about lettin’ rustlers an’ murderers escape. Can IT reach down for my plug, Corvell? I done swallowed my chew.” ‘We'll stretch a point an’ let yuh wait for Tim,” said Coryell, ‘‘ but don’t do no reachin’ for no tobacco—that is, if you wanna be here when Tim comes.” “ Puttin’ it that way.” said Sam, ‘I guess I'll wait.” ‘““ Far’s T can see,” said Timmy Osborne judicially, ** yore evidence is about as clear as slumgullion. I can’t sce no reason for hangin’ Mr. Corvell. Can you, mar- shal?” “Which I should say not!” the mar- shal of Doerib declared emphatically. ‘‘ Men have been stretched on damsight less evidence than this,” Hawk-lace ex- claimed passionately. “So they have,” agreed Timmy Os- borne. “ They’s nothin’ like bein’ orig- inal, is they?” * Now lookit, Tim,” put in practical Sam, “ you gotta admit all the evidence points at this feller Coryell. Can't you see it? I can.” ‘“Can you, Sam? That’s fine. Remem- ber, Sam, when you was livin’ in Bygone, how you missed five hundred dollars, an’ nothin’ must do but the roustabout down at the Stinger saloon glommed it, an’ how you crawled his hump, an’ nigh scared the poor jigger out o’ the few wits he owned? Remember all that, Sam?” Practical Sam was reddening and stand- ing first on one embarrassed foot and then on the other. ‘ Well—” he began. ‘ You was certain shure,” pursued ‘Tim- my Osborne with relish, * that the rousta- bout stole vore five hundred dollars. You was shore ’cause you’d seen him passin’ yore house an’ he’d looked in at vuh cross- eyed or some such damn foolishness. Oh. yeah, you was shore, an’ you got the mar- shal to throw the roustabout in the cala- boose till he owned up. an’ then vou found ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. the money yoreself in a lard pail under some old clo’es in a corner right where you’d cached it in the first place.” ‘I forgot,” Sam endeavored to explain. “Yuh know well enough, Timmy, I wouldn’t accuse nobSdy of nothin’ wrong unless I thought I was right. Yuh know that.” ‘\ T know you can’t help goin’ off at half- cock any more than a gun without a trig- ger. I know you from ’way back, Sam, an’ you was always a heap precipitate in yore judgments.” “Well, 7 ain’t precipitate in my judg- ments,” blazed Hawk-Face, ‘an’ all I got to say is, this here is @ helluva note! Ob- structin’ justice, that’s what yo’re doin’. An’ the marshal, too.” “Say,” Piggy Question burst in _ per- turbedly, ‘I just looked out the window, an’ they’s about thirty gents standin’ round with shotguns an’ Winchesters.” “Took ’em long enough to organize,” grumbled the marshal. ‘‘ They should ’a’ been ready ten minutes ago.” ‘Ready? Ready for what?’ rasped Hawk-FIace. “Oh, ’most anythin’, ’most anythin’,” Timmy Osborne replied airily. “We thought maybe we’d need ’em in case— Just in case, that’s all.” ‘You see how it is, boys,” said the mar- shal. ‘“ They ain’t really nothin’ more you can do here in Dogrib.”’ Flawk-Face looked at the marshal; he looked through the doorway that framed a section of Dogrib’s inhabitants; he looked at his men. His face was very glum. There could be only one sensible decision. Coryell and his friends awaited it in polite silence. . “Do ‘we get our guns back?” inquired Hawk- Face. “How about it?” Timmy Osborne de- ferred to Coryell. The latter nodded. ‘“They’re welcome to ’em. ed ’em, anyway.” When the Buck Snort men were gonc Coryell and his friends in need foregath- ered. Which, after what had passed, was I’ve unload- eminently htting. Later. shen Se to