Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 3, 1924 — page 164: what you’re looking at

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

By JACK CASEY flea-bitten pony before the Sunset Slope general store and post office. “Hear the news?”’ Jim Larkin spoke. Big Jim of the Lazy U outfit back in the Big Four Bend. About him lounged half dozen riders of the herd, all eying the big cowboy as he challenged Slim in a bass voice which seemed to surge from fathomless depths. “ What news?” Slim yanked a hitch in the pony’s leather and abruptly wheeled about. Larkin said: ‘ Tex Allen’s in town look- ing for riders to go to New York. ’S going to put on a rodeo. He’s up at Markins’ right now.” “Huh.” Slim shuffled toward the group, then relaxed into a slouch, with one big hand resting against a porch support. Yuh goin’?” Larkin shook his head. ce Why?” : S i= ” WATSON dismounted from a ‘ Can't.” “Too busy at the ranch. ’N’ anyway I don’t think Id like ridin’ in Noo Yawk.” ‘“ No different than ridin’ here,” drawled Slim. ‘‘ No-o-o, I suppose not, but, well,’ Lar- kin laughed, “ it’d seem different if yuh got throwed an’ a lot 0’ smart guys laughed at yuh.” “Don’t get throwed,” was Slim’s phi- losophical retort. ‘ That’s all right for you to say,” spoke up Red Reardon, “ with those bean pole legs of yourn. Yuh ain’t never got your feet offen the ground when you ride so you can’t be thrown. If you’d put prunin’ hooks on those trailin’ arbutuses you call laigs, you could hire out on an ‘ outlaw’ and plow up a ten acre garden patch every hour.” ) ‘They are a bit long,” : Jmitted Slim, gazing down at the props in question. “ But yuh know the old sayin’, a lean hoss for a long race.” 954 COMG DOO! S CO nn