Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

ON THE TRAIL grazed my cheek. In that terrible sec- ond I saw an impressive sight. One of the Howard men, looming clear and distinct in the gathering gloom, flung his arms upward, so that he resembled the figure of a cross, with a Winchester rifle suspended and fail- ing from one cross piece, and then with a cry he dived to the ground, as if it were water into which he meant to plunge. : Tom Auckland’s bullet had sped true and either Zach Peters or Dick War- man was as dead as Julius Caesar. I had taken no part in the affray, since the distance was too great for the effective use of my revolver. The moment Auckland freed himself from his falling horse, he made a couple of tremendous bounds that carried him to the side of the road, where he was out of range for the time of the repeater of the remaining enemy. This much I saw, for it all took place, as may be said, 1n the twinkling of an eye, and then, with almost the same swiftness, I ceased to be a spectator. The firing and confusion threw Jack into uncontrollable panic. He spun around like a top, and with the bit be- tween his teeth went down the road like a meteor. I exerted myself with might and main, but he continued his terrific pace over the gullies and broken places and turns of the highway, at the im- minent risk of his neck and mine, and it was not until he had gone fully two hundred yards that I was able to check his speed and bring him to a standstill.“ But when he was turned about, he absolutely refused to go back. No urg- ing affected him, though I was conf- dent that in a short time he could be soothed into obedience. But there was not a minute to throw away. Tom Auckland was wounded and confronted by an wunwounded enemy, who would show him no more mercy than one of Geronimo’s Apaches. I slipped out of the saddle. “Go where you choose, Jack; we must part company.” OF A MYSTERY. 9 I paused only long enough to re- move my traveling bag, which had been tied to the saddle, and holding it in my left hand, and my Smith & Wesson in my right, I loped up the road to where I feared my acquaintance was im ex- tremis. } Danger makes strange bedfellows. I had just finished a threat of shooting Tom Auckland, when in the same mo- ment we became companions in deadly peril and presumably friends. It was impossible to forget the spot, even if it had not been marked by the dead body of the mountaineer’s horse. The afternoon was drawing to a close, but it would not be dark for a full hour. The two members of the Howard gang had vanished. One of them must have dragged the lifeless form of his comrade to the side of the highway and sent the horses beyond reach. | Recalling where I had seen the figure of the giant mountaineer as he leaped to the protection of the rocks and under- growth, I halted and peered cautiously around. | He was invisible, and, puzzled to know the cause of his going so far, I cailed in a suppressed voice: ‘‘ Helloa, Tom! where are you? ” A slight rustling followed, and the slouch hat, glaring eyes, and matted whiskers were slowly shoved into sight from behind a mass of stone close to the road and on my right hand. “ T warn’t sartin, pard, that was you, but I’m glad to see you and to obsarve that you was luckier than me.” [ was instantly at his side. “Were you hit hard?” I asked, no- ticing blood on the sleeve of his right arm. “ No,” he replied with a sniff, “ but I’d rather been hit harder than to have catched it as I did. Do you obsarve that I won’t be able to handle my Win- chester till the blamed thing heals? ” He illustrated how the bullet that had ranged along his forearm, passing out near the elbow, had te - lyzed the muscles. W use