Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 6, 1923 — page 20: what you’re looking at

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

= with: = burned face and bread lop- brimmed _ sombrero. ____chugged past the first saloon he noted that But as Hayden it had been turned into a garage. j The next, the Golden Cloud, a famous S gaming house and den of the lost renegade days, was empty, its window panes either _ broken or completely curtained with brown webs, its doors dammed with sand, its water -__-trough warped and overturned—a half ex- -_ humed coffin—its snubbing rail a splintered and fallen grave mark. Adjacent to it the - Dead Horse Saloon was used by a cholo as a hot dog stand, garlic replacing the ancient smell of beer aandes bars. The picturesque shop of Sam Quiggley, = -harnessmaker, was now blotted with blood- red signs advertising gasoline and motor == Oils. ____ of the old era, man hunter, member of night ___ posses, rider after brand blotchers, assistant _ at lynehings; occasionally, when drunk and -___Jawless, a barroom gun fighter. _— “A representative tragedy!” Hayden re- Sam Quigegley himself had been a part marked to himself. “Sam Quiggley has passed the climax of his life and become very old at fifty.” ing of violent destruction, or irreparable Apainst the old bullet ridden = = walls stood bottles of brilliant yellow and = pile soft drinks! = ‘the “Painted Rock and Gila Stage, and the ~_ general store, Hayden swerved into the sand —-vivulets. in ivont of the Doxey Hotel, the only place—aside from a Mexican chow cart and the Dead Horse pcos where visitors © could dine. The proprietor recone Hayden as a drummer who had bothered him five years ago and had mystified the town with the -___ peculiarities of a man from the thickly pop- -. -ulated East. In fact, upon Hayden’s second _- entrance into Sun-up- the hotel owner no- = _— ticed that the drummer offered an impres- sive but disagreeable new assortment of —— citified manners and conceits. == - Here was.a notorious little bar, fre- —— Sguentak -onee by- renegades, cholos, Hopis, ___ half-breed herders, and now offering ginger ale and soda. ing past the ee the office of ARGOSY- ALLSTORY. WEERLY. Fred Heyden was, of course, wind burned, and hence from the point of view of the pale faced tourists on the Santa Fe or Southern Pacific Overlands he would have appeared to belong right where he was: in a small Arizona town. The fine lines about his blue eyes were etched with a _ whitish dust, making the wrinkles lighter than the burned skin. In Oklahoma and Arizona, women ad- judged him very handsome—if for no other reason than his height and curly auburn hair. His hands, burned but still with a touch of city delicacy, were described by the proprietor of the hotel, and others of a Suspicious turn of mind, as the hands of an actor—a mysterious characteristic in Sun-up. Stepping from his car and stripping off the linen duster—a garment of stylish though ready-made cut—Hayden revealed a tight fitting store suit, the blue of which was enlivened by a broad striping of yel- low. A colored shirt—subdued mauve—with cuff links of carbonado diamonds, a blue tie with an unpolished stone of New Mexico _ turquoise, a turndown detachable collar ae But the next ina gave : a meee pera 7 ae ‘jllustration of what had happened to old _Sun-up. Hayden was oppressed with a feel- purporting to be of the same shade as the shirt—all these details stamped Frederick Hayden in the eyes of most towns west of Oklahoma City as a man fashionably ar- 7 rayed and not overdressed. His niceties of habit were not confined eo haberdashery alone. ‘“T will be here three days,” he acecied to the Mexican woman who waited on the table. “None of your ham and eggs. Pluck three chickens for me—Carmencita— . that’s your name if I remember rightly— aye? Not fried, either. I’m going to ini- tiate the town of Sun-up in an art which has never been dreamed of between the Sierra Nevadas and the Mississippi River— the gentle art of avoiding the frying pan! Sefiora Carmencita, remember this, every meal I will have broiled chicken. None of your fresh beef! And as for the coffee—” As a crowning touch to his exquisite habits, Mr. Fred ‘Hayden extracted a can from his satchel. -Carmencita—elum, fat. silent—toddled off to the kitchen—a place buzzing with flies and redolent of Mexican onions. “J bring my own coffee!”” —— com ise boo aS (E@)