Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 25, 1924 — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

20 The two men stepped forward, but halted as Preest turned upon them furiously with a cry that curdled the blood and brought the gaunt figure of tragedy to stalk among them. “Not yet!” he shrieked, and he turned on Dasent. His hard face was green as the moonlight caught it. His teeth were tightly clenched, and as he spoke his lips writhed over them like the twisting lips of a man dying after long torture, and the sweat poured from his forehead, rolling down in glistening rivulets into his eyes. with the frenzied snarl of an animal that fights with death upon it, he poured out a streaming, vitriolic denunciation of the man who ordered his doom. “You lick his boots now, you— But wait!— Two skunks can’t play without fightin — One of you’s got to go! An’ when you’ve got Bart Parmelee’s teeth in yore throat remember me! Ah, my Christ! ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. My God! If I could be there!— Two of you— Two—!” His tirade ended with a rasping shriek as Dasent plunged forward and raised a quirt to cut the bare backed pony into the action which would break Preest’s neck. ““'What’s that?” a single voice cried out from the silence which held the grouped men in a trance. And that was the clatter of hoofs which announced the coming of David and his friend. “Hold up, Jud! The old man!” And Dasent, transfixed by those words, held his hand to see stride from the liquid trans- parency of the night a figure which had the aspect of an avenging angel. David stepped forward with his father’s gun clasped in one hand. That group of men, who would have showered forth in- stant death to meet a dozen others who in- truded in like manner, stood rigid before the fire in his eyes. TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK U v Le] = THE BOW OF PROMISE MILE when youw’re happy and smile when you're sad; Smile when you’re lonely at joy you have had. Laugh in the sunshine, smile through the rain, Trusting the bow of sweet promise again. Smile in the gladness that nature has wrought, Laugh down the sadness that folly has bought— Walk in the sunlight, the shadow disdain, Trusting the bow of sweet promise again. Smile o’er the music that lingers in life; Laugh at the discord of folly and strife. Smile from the mountain, through valley, o’er plain, Trusting the bow of sweet promise again. Smile in your sorrow; through hope and desire Touch the soft notes of eternity’s lyre. Laugh—and envelope the heart in the strain— Live in the bow of sweet promise again! Dow Wallace Tate. COmMicloooks (C@