Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 5, 1921 — page 135: what you’re looking at

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

THE BUSTER. calf found near the body of Coombs had been earmarked with Coryell’s marks re- versed. Coryell got down on his knees and ex- amined the hoof-marks of Mr. Orison’s horse. Mr. Orison followed his every move- ment with fascinated eyes. Coryell stood “up and looked calmly upon Mr. Orison. “Next time,” said Coryell, “ be careful none of yore hoss’s shoes are twisted so’s they make a fine ma k to trail yuh by. The mark of this near hina is just like the print ef the near hind of the hoss belongin’ to the man that shot Coombs.”’ “I didn’t shoot Coombs!” Mr. Orison denied frantically. ‘“I— He pulled on me -—he---I—it was self-defense—” He choked on an oath. A froth was.on his lips. ‘He wiped it away and swore again. “You see,” Coryell nodded to the Buck Snorters. ‘“‘ You come near makin’ a mis- take that time you was gonna hang me.” They were dumb—except Fatty Larkin. He said: “ I knowed it all along.” ~“ Lookit, Rudy,” said Coryell, ‘“ you was drivin’ them cows an’ calves south. What you got against the Slash K?” This was a new angle, and one hitherto unperceived by the Buck Snort men. Mr. Orison shook his head. ‘ Nothin’ to say.” ‘“ When Swing nicked you that day over on the other side of the Kettle, what was vou quarrelin’ about?” ‘““Whu-where was you?’ gasped the stunned Mr. Orison. - “* Nemmind where I was. What was the row between you an’ Swing?” But Mr. Orison had partly recovered his wits. Again he shook his head. ‘ Nothin’ to say.” “You ain’t denyin’,” went on the easy voice, “‘ you branded these calves Slash K an’ was drivin’ ’em south where Lander’s tiders or one of Rockerby’s boys would like- ly find ’em an’, seein’ their brands wouldn't agree with the cows, the Slash K would be blamed accordin’?” “T didn’t brand’them calves,’’. insisted Mr. Orison. ‘“Yo’re a liar by the clock. Tl just look at yore saddle.” Coryell strode to the fallen horse of Mr. oe 421 Orison. He lifted the saddle-skirt. ‘Neither of the cinch-rings on ‘that side showed any evidence of having been near a fire. Cor- yell, with the assisfance of willing friends, loosened the cinches and pulled the saddle from the horse’s body. On the other side of the saddle the evi- dence lay. snugly—a burnt and blackened cinch-ring. ‘Coryell rubbed it with his fin- gers. He held them up. They were smutched with soot. : “ An’ you don’t own a cow in'the world,” Coryell said to Mr. Orison. “IT tell yuh I found them cows,” Mr. Orison held to it stubbornly. A shrewd look crept into the eyes of the black-avised citizen. He stepped to the side of Mr. Orison. ‘If you know anythin’ about anybody,” he insinuated, “ let’s hear it. We might let you off a lil easier.” But compromising with a rustler was too much for the Buck Snort contingent. ‘““No, you won’t let him off a lil easier,” contradicted Hiawk-Face. ‘‘ Don’tcha go makin’ him no promises like that. He’s guilty as all hell. If he didn’t brand them calves, which we’re shore now he did, he downed Coombs anyway. Either one’s enough to hang him. We'll attend to him, an’ we'll do it before we leave here, too.” ‘“He’d oughta be tried,” demurred the red-faced individual. ‘‘ Lot o’ things come out durin’ & trial.” ‘No trial,” averred Hawk-Face. ‘“‘ We’ve had sort o’ hard luck with our prisoners lately. We ain’t takin’ no chances on losin’ this one—not a chance.” “Fair enough,” said Fatty Larkin. “ Yuh see, he lived in our town. He sort o’ be- longs to us that away.” ‘“ But—” began the black-avised person. Fatty Larkin shook his head. ‘If you was the sheriff now, or even one of his deputies, you might have a right to argue about it. But yo’re only association de tectives, you an’ yore friend, an’ you can’t even arrest anybody, or stop any proceedin’ like this here. All you can do is get the sheriff to try what he can do. Not that he could do much—now.”’ The black-avised man récognized the truth of this. He gave over his efforts to stay the execution of Mr. Orison. comiclbooks. Com