Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 6, 1923 — page 158: what you’re looking at

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

940 ‘How t’ hell was I goin’ to know ‘at I couldn’t trail the geezer?’ he snarled. “You said I wasn’t to let him know any- body was keepin’ cases on him. I’ve tramped more ’n a hundred miles since he broke loose, tryin’ to find out where he’d gone to!” “Shut up!” snapped the big man in advance. ‘“ You’ve balled it—that’s all. You can talk ’til hell freezes over, but that’s what it comes to.” Quite methodically Barrett drew his re- volver from its holster and aimed it at the leading man. It was only his ineptness with the weapon that gave the bride of a day time to throw herself upon him be- fore he could pull the trigger; and by the time the silent little struggle was ended, the three men had disappeared in the tun- nel. ‘“Oh, good Heavens, Jimmie, dear!” she panted, “ have you lost your mind? Let’s run! We can reach our car before they overtake us! Come, quick, before they come back and find out what’s been done to them!” ‘You may go,” he gritted. “I want you to go—and take this sack of stuff along with you. But when I go, these ban- dits go with me—dead or alive.” “Oh, you glorious fool!” she wept, throwing her arms around his neck. “ Are you going to make a widow of me before we’ve been married a day? You can’t fight three of them. They’ll kill you, and then what will become of me?” A faint glow of the returning flashlight was beginning to show in the depths of the tunnel, and Barrett freed himself master- fully and thrust the sack of money upon her. “Take it and fly,” he commanded brusquely. ‘ Run on down to the car and Tl be with you when the show is over. I’m not going back to Copah empty-hand- ed. Run, I tell you—while you have a chance! The bullets will be flying here in a second or two, and whatever happens, that money’s got to be saved!” “Oh, don’t send me away!” she begged. “If you’ve got to stay, let me stay and f-fight with you!” “Never in this world. This is a man’s ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. job. If you love me, take that sack and run with it!” Thus adjured, she snatched up the sack and ran—a little way. As she reached the corner of the log cabin she saw the big touring car standing before the door. It had been turned around and was headed for the flight down the mountain. Her first impulse was to drop the sack of money and try to disable the car, thus making pur- suit with it impossible if Barrett should come to his senses and run while there was yet time for flight. But time was no more. Even as the thought flashed into her mind, the three men came stumbling out of the tunnel; two of them accusing the third and cursing him savagely. “You damned coyote ’’—it was the harsh voice of the touring car driver that was ripping sawlike into the high mountain silence— d’you think f’r a holy minute you can double cross us like this and get away with it? Drop that gat ’r I’ll bore you right where you stand! Now you’ve got ’til I can count ten to tell us what you’ve done with the swag! One—two— three—”’ The interruption was a sharp command of “ Hands up!” from the tree shadows, and the counting stopped abruptly. According to the time honored custom firmly estab- lished by the scenario writers and armchair annalists of wild Western moments of stress, the three men should have reached for the stars in prompt capitulation. But they did nothing of the sort. In- stead, two of them opened fire instantly upon the tree shadows, while the third stooped to grope for the gun he had just dropped at the threatening command of his accuser. It was all over in a minute. The bang- ing fusillade was answered by spiteful spurts of fire from the tree covert; one of the three—the one who had stooped and was rising to get into action—staggered and sank back to his knees; and the next in- stant the other two had darted back to cover in the tunnel, dragging the wounded man with them. After that, silence, profound and unbrok- en even by the whispering of the night wind COMiclooe S (©