Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 18, 1925 — page 124: what you’re looking at

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

274 ed with glistening excitement upon the table. “Yes!” she cried. “‘ Yes!” And he knew that she sought to convey to him something with her eyes. “TY object!” cried Creevy, sensing a col- lusion. ‘“ That’s a leading question.”’ “All right, then!” Cosgrove did not wait for his honor’s decision; for he had caught the meaning of her glance. “ I'll put the question in a different way!” He swung about, still facing the jury, and pointed dramatically to the weapons which lay upon the table. “Ts the gun you saw Klien use on that table?” he demanded. “ Gawd!” shrieked Farley, and plunged forward, almost making the table before Gaines brought him up short with an iron grip. “ Yes!” cried Hazel, and she leaned over the witness rail. “ That is the gun!” “I object!” cried Creevy. “ Shut her up!” roared Farley. “Ts it this one?” demanded Cosgrove; and his voice boomed loud above the oth- ers. He held up his own weapon!”’ “ No,” she answered. “Ts it this?’ And he held up Farley’s. “Ves! I recognize it by the red stain which runs down the barrel.” “‘ She lies!”” roared Farley. And this time his voice arose in such a blast of fury that the court room had to hear him. “ That gun is mine! I was carrying it myself that morning! I’ve carried it for years!” ‘‘ Prove it!”? snapped Cosgrove. And Farley, who had expected opposi- tion to his voice, but no such recognition, faltered, nonplused. “ How can 1?” he snarled. ‘“ One gun’s like another. My brother Mase gave me that gun four, five years ago. I’ve always carried it. Prove it ain’t mine!” And he laughed hideously. “The red marking on it!” cried Hazel. *T saw it in Klien’s hand!” “That mark’s been on it ever since I had it! It’s mine!” roared Farley; and he would have snatched it up, but Gaines was before him. He himself took the gun from Cosgrove’s hand. “Just a minute, Wert!” he boomed ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. firmly, and, scrutinizing the weapon close- ly, he at the same time presented it toward the infuriated man. “ You say this gun is yours?” “I know it’s mine!” Farley glared hate- fully at this new opponent. “And you’ve carried it for years?” There was a meaning in the old plains- man’s voice which puzzled all the court, holding them breathless. “ Ever since I got it!” Farley shouted. “You were carrying it when your brother was killed?’’ Gaines demanded. Farley glared at him with the fury of one who sees an approaching doom. “Of course,” he growled. “ Then, God help you, you’re your broth-; er’s murderer!” cried Gaines. “I picked up this gun in the barn doorway the night Mason Farley was killed! I tell you it’s the gun of the murderer!” CHAPTER XXXIILI. AN UNBEARABLE PITY. OR a moment there was a great and terrible silence which seemed to pul- sate with the passing of the seconds. Wert Farley stood as if turned to stone by the awful charge that John Gaines had pronounced. And Gaines himself appeared dazed by ~ his discovery. He stood with the gun in his hand and stared at Farley as though . he had discovered him stricken with leprosy. It was Cosgrove who leaped into the breach, forestalling the pent fury of the mob. “What do you mean, Gaines? Speak! Quick! What are you talking about? He seized the old man by the shoulder and shook him roughly, arousing him as he would have aroused a sleeping man. Gaines, still clutching the gun in his hand, still with his horrified eyes on the spellbound Farley, responded in a deep, but colorless voice. “This gun killed Mason Farley,” he said. ‘““T know it, and Chris Christofferson knows it. I went out to the Bar Nothing ranch with Chris when Hazel called up, saying her father had been killed. Mason was lying EOPMIE OOO KS (E@)