Argosy All-Story Weekly, June 27, 1925 — page 138: what you’re looking at

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

S34 ta the thicket which followed the crash of the wun indicated that the marksman was eager to get a second shot. “You blame fool!” shouted Red, stand- ing up and shaking a freckled fist at the top of the bill. ‘“ What th’ hell you tryin’ to do?” Lanky’s anxious face peered over the rim and its expression changed to outraged disgust. “You callin’ me a fool, after snortin’ like that under th’ feet of a man all keyed up to do some quick shootin’?” he yelled. “ Of all th’ stupid Siwashes yo’re th’ worst! There I was, all eyes an’ ears, with my fin- ger as tight on th’ trigger as it dast be, an’ you blunder up like a loco cow, an’ snort! Don’t you never do that agin, you—” “ Anybody 'd reckon, to hear you, that it was yore hair that bullet touched!’ re- torted Red, who firmly believed that he was the aggrieved party in the whole affair. “ Lookit me, mud an’ water from my feet tomy hat! Tine mess / am, on account of you holin’ up! What was you doin’, hunt- in’ Injuns?” he sarcastically demanded. ‘Huntin’ Injuns yoreself!” snapped Lanky. “You ain’t no wetter than I am, me layin’ in a pile of bushes that are worse’n sponges! You never did have no sense, nohow!” He glanced sidewise and leveled an accusing arm in the same direction. “Lookit what you done to th’ Kid, makin’ him waller in th’ mud an’ water. Lookit him!" Red looked, and saw Mesquite standing up and grinning at the pair of them. Mes- quite was a study in mud, and dirty water dripped from every sag in his clothes. He had followed swiftly on Red’s trail and was lying with his rifle covering the rear of Lanky’s thicket when Red’s snort had start- ed things. “ Yeah, I see him!” shouted Red, bellig- erently. ‘I see another damn fool like voreself! You go an’ pick out all th’ mud- dy ground to travel over so you can blur yore tracks, build a fire that smokes to heaven, an’ then blame me for trailin’ you! What did you expect me to do? Come a skippin’ an’ a singin’ through th’ woods? That may be th’ way you fools do yore ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. trailin’, but it shore ain’t my way. Another quarter of an inch lower down, an’ that jackass up there would ’a’ blowed my braing out!” “T couldn’t ’a’ blowed any brains out of yore head if I'd held an inch lower—not with a double barrel shotgun, I couldn't, you flathead!” retorted Lanky. ‘“ Here's th’ Kid an’ me, reasonable dry after all th’ rain, an’ then you come along chasin’ In- juns! Now look at us! Won’t you never get no sense, at all?” ‘Aw, go to helll’’ snapped Red, and turned to glare at Mesquite. ‘“: What’s th’ fool reason for you fellers blurrin’ yore trail like that? 9 Why ’d you build a smoke- pot fire? You ketchin’ loco from that tum- blebug friend of ourn?” Mesquite choked back his laughter, wiped his eyes with a muddy sleeve, which did not add to his appearance, and slowly stood erect. ‘ Take things easy, you two!” he begged. ‘“T got a pain in my side already. Red, yore a picture! You must ’a’ rooted like a hawg,” and his laughter rang out again. Seeing that Mesquite was unable to an- swer his question, Red turned to Lanky and repeated it, with trimmings. “If you had any sense,” retorted Lanky, “you’d know why we made that kind of a trail. Th’ Kid reckoned mebby if we masked it, some blunderin’ fool would fol- ler it. He did foller it. We built that smoky fire because there wasn’t no dry wood, which suited us, seein’ the smoke was our bait. It was a bait, an’ it worked: we caught a doodle bug, you red-headed fool! Any more questions you want to ask?” Red slid and floundered as he climbed the hill, and stalked off to the camp in haughty dignity, muttering under his breath. Helping himself to a venison steak, he picked up a trimmed and peeled wand and turned toward the fire to broil his din- ner. Lanky followed in grouchy silence, Mesquite trailing after the pair of them, wiping his eyes and feeling of his sides. Grim tragedy had passed them by: If Red had fired from his position under the top of the hill he could have killed Lanky; and if he had straightened out of his crouch COnniEaoo () SS Co