Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 17, 1924 — page 109: what you’re looking at

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

THE ELUSIVE ‘“‘T don’t give a darn if it’s a two months’ trip,” Solemn snapped, “ and I don’t give a cuss if your blamed old head busts! We’re going to arrive at them six dead mules prior to the clock strikin’ eight thirty p. M. Sunday night! Come on! Get up, Versus!”’ “Six dead mules,” Dirty Shirt muttered, falling into step behind Solemn. ‘“ Who ever heard of the like? But in that case I reckon we’d just as well go see them! I always wanted to see a dead mule and mebbe—” The thump of the “ get up ” stick on the shaggy ribs of Versus submerged the rest of the sentence. Sixty miles in thirty six hours with a burro—with Versus of all burros—across the blistering, heat-soaked sands of the al- most measureless desert out in the trans- cendant penultimate of southwestern Nev- ada, is a gargantuan task. Yet, Solemn Johnson plus Dirty Shirt Smith did it! Devil’s Gorge sweltered at eight nineteen p. M, that unforgettable Sunday as Devil’s Gorge had never sweltered before; it was hot—close, sticky, eternally, infernally, re- lentlessly hot—when Sid Monarch, foreman of the construction camp where the Santa Fe was tearing out a road bed for the new cut-off between Pimento Siding and Despair Buttes, having at that moment stepped from the door of the mess shack, saw staggering across the gorge a small mouse- colored burro with long ears, followed by two almost hysterically warm human be- ings. The mouse colored burro with long ears was Versus; the two reeling, swaying, stumbling wayfarers Solemn Johnson plus Dirty Shirt Smith. Sid paused until the trio drew near. “Where be they?” Solemn Johnson panted as Versus stopped and dropped her nose down close to the ground to smell of an empty tomato can lying beside the cook- shack door. “Where be what?” Sid said, eying Sol- emn and Dirty Shirt as they leaned, almost ready to collapse, one against either side of Versus. “Them mules!” Solemn half whispered, a sinking sensation coming over him. MULE. 259 “What mules?” Sid asked. “ Them—them—” Solemn helplessly. “Them dead mules!” Dirty Shirt in- terrupted, impatiently, “ We’ve come plumb from Red Bluff since yesterday morning A. M, just to see them six dead mules. Now show us their corpses!” A peculiar smile flitted across Sid’s face. “Wasn’t six dead mules killed here in Devil’s Gorge last Friday afternoon?” Solemn questioned, uneasily. Sid nodded his head. “Yep,” he murmured, rolling a brown paper cigarette; “six mules—darned good mules—sure were eliminated right across the gorge there at about four P. m. o’clock Friday, according to the best information T‘could get! Six mules sure was killed, I reckon!” “Then where be the remains!” Solemn yelled. ‘“‘We’ve got to see them six dead mules right away! It’s mighty nigh eight thirty P. M. now.” ‘“‘ Where be they, stranger?” Dirty Shirt pleaded, ‘‘ Where be them six dead mules?” Sid stood silent, apparently lost in deep thought. ““ Where — be — them — six — dead — mules?” Solemn Johnson repeated slowly, threateningly. _ “ Nobody ain’t seen ’em,” Sid murmured, lighting a match deftly on the nail of his thumb, “ nobody ain’t seen them six dead mules, and nobody ain’t ever goin’ to see them!” : Sid paused; Versus nosed the vacant tomato can; Solemn and Dirty Shirt stood uncertainly speechless, feeling that some- thing was seriously wrong, that disaster was impending. - ‘““No—nobody _ ain’t Solemn began hesitatingly. “Nope,” Sid resumed, “nobody ain’t seen them six dead mules, and my guess is that nobody ain’t ever goin’ to see them six dead mules.” “ Wasn’t they killed?” Dirty Shirt stam- mered. “ They sure as hell was.” Sid replied. “Then where be them six dead mules!” Solemn snapped impatiently. “Them six dead mules ain’t come down stammered, seen them—” COmicloooks (C@