Argosy All-Story Weekly, June 13, 1925 — page 80: what you’re looking at

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

p02 “Objection overruled!” his honor snapped. ‘“ You are an ungrateful whelp! I am offering you my years of experience as a practitioner of the law.” The bandit shook his curly red head. ““ Nothin’ stirrin’. I’m a goin’ to be my own lawyer.” “Very well, then,” the judge said peevishly. “‘ Bear in mind, I might have saved your worthless neck from the noose.” “ Blah! T’ll save my own neck, you big stiff!” “Oh, you will, will you?” The judge’s complexion was purple. ‘‘ Well, we shall see about that, you dirty little crook!”’ There was a rustle of murmurs in the court room. Judge Oglethorpe banged on the bar. ‘Order in the court!” he shouted. “You people back there don’t seem tc un- derstand,” he went on irritably, “ that this proceeding is a serious matter, and that the dignity of my position must be respected. I want silence and respect, and I’m going to have silence and respect!” The rustling subsided. Judge Ogle- thorpe rested his chin upon an upturned forefinger, lodged his elbow on the bar, and with his finger as a pivot, turned and smiled upon the bearded man in the witness chair. “What is your name, my man?” he asked. “ Arthur Globlon,” the miner stated. ‘‘T understand,” the judge said pleasant- ly, “ that it is the custom in this virile sec- tion of our great country for all men to have nicknames. May ¥ ask what is yours?” ‘Yes, yore honor,” the man answered, nervously stroking his thick black beard, for he was still obviously embarrassed at being the cynosure of all eyes. “I have a nickname. Th’ boys and gals hereabouts call me Dirty Neck Arthur.” “ Quaint and no doubt fitting.” the judge murmured absently. ‘ Where were you born, Mr. Globlon?”’ “Tn Dirty Water Junction, yore honor.” “ How old are you?”’ “Tl be nineteen mv next birthday, yore honor.” “Why! You’re only a boy!” “JT object!’? Red Wilpin cried. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. ‘““My God!” the judge growled. ‘ What are you objecting to now?” ‘That man up thar is a liar, yore honor. His name ain’t Globlon; it’s Snarky. He wasn’t born in Dirty Water Junction. He’s a half-breed, th’ son of a greaser sheep rustler and a Yaqui Indian woman who was a dope smuggler, and he’s forty-six years old if he’s a day. Ask him if it ain’t so!” The judge turned to the witness. “Ts what the defendant says true?” “No,” said the witness. “ Objection overruled,” Judge Oglethorpe decided, and he shook an admonitory finger at the accused. ‘‘ Young man, I want to assure you that you are gaining nothing by your attempts at frustating the objects of justice. You are only bringing disrepute to your own cause. I shall not warn you again. On your next offense, I warn you, I may seriously consider charging you with contempt of court.” Red Wilpin snorted disdainfully. right, ya big bag of wind.” ‘“ Bailiff,” the judge said angrily, “‘ if that smart aleck makes another crack like that, the court orders that you kick him in the shins.”’ Marshal Sniffin nodded grimly. “ Bailiff will so please, your honor!”’ he snapped. “ You just try kickin’ me in the shins,” Red Wilpin said warningly, “ and ll knock you for a loop.” The crowd muttered. And above this undercurrent of sound came the voice of Margery Corbin, keyed high and shrill with anxiety. ‘““Oh, Larry, please don’t hold up the trial. This suspense is killing me!” Mrs. Yost sniffed and Jeaned over to whisper in Spavin Yampdon’s ear. “ The little harridan has something up her sleeve. Mark my word!”’ Judge Oglethorpe brought the butt of the pistol crashing down upon the bar. “Silence!” he thundered. “ Now, Mr. Globlon,” he said in gentler tones, ‘‘ we will proceed. You have sworn to tell the “* All truth, so far as it Hes within your ability, . concerning the moral character of this com- munity. You will first answer a question with a flat ves or no. Is Yumpa, as the de- fendant claims, a cesspool of iniquity, noted comilclooolk C@