The Argosy, Vol. 76, No. 3 — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

488 those old days with Deane—a cornered wildcat—a cave man with his back to the wall—a fury, with all the seething elemental passions uppermost. His foes were many, and he must take them one by one. While he charged a single vague shape, he was forced to run a gantlet of blows that staggered and dazed him. Yet one man crumpled under the weight of his fist, and as the rufhan groaned and pitched forward the pros- pector whirled and charged again. Feet crunched and slipped in the gravelly soil; sharp, labored breathing rent the air in staccatolike notes, and over all rose the sodden thumps of the clubs. Again and again the prospect- or wrenched himself clear of the press. Perhaps not one blow in half a dozen reached him, for the gloom and the excitement sent many of them wild; but the bludgeons that found their mark had a cruelly crushing strength behind them. While he drove before him another of his foes the rest hung upon his back and belabored him viciously. Nothing kept him from his quarry. At the edge of the town canal the retreating enemy was forced to make a stand. Bremerton glimpsed the man’s swarthy, scowling face in the moon- light. The fellow had raised a club for a telling blow. Before the club could fall Bremerton grasped it and wrenched it away. Almost simultaneously his hard fist darted at the shadowy face, and the man went over the brink of the canal and into the water with a splash. Bremerton whirled, smashing right and left with the club. Another man was struck and beaten to his knees. The prospector trampled him roughly to get at his companions. A stick aimed at Bremerton’s head glanced and struck his right arm. The arm fell limp and useless as though a bone had been snapped. A sickening pain convulsed the pros- pector’s whole body, but he rallied magnificently. He had lost his weapon, THE ARGOSY. and fqr offense and defense he had now only his left hand. Slowly his physical powers were fail- ing, but his resolution grew as his strength diminished. He sprang at another of his assailants, and just at the moment a pair of arms encircled his knees and he was thrown from his feet. Then the pack closed in. On his head, his shoulders, his back, rained.the blows. His left arm protected his face, but finally that arm, too, dropped away. With a choking gasp he measured his length on.the ground, lying there helplessly while he fought to hold his fading senses. The attack ceased. Some one knelt beside him and whispered hoarsely in his ear: “This is all for now; but go out to the Mariquita Mine and worse will follow. Remember what—’”’ The voice died out in Bremerton’s ears. A pall suddenly encompassed his faculties, and he neither heard nor realized anything more. | He drifted back to reason -presently and found himself alone. His head throbbed and his whole body rebelled when he attempted to move. He ground his teeth to stifle a groan. _ By degrees his brain cleared. Mal- lory had threatened, and Mallory’s men had been handily by te make clear to him that the threats were to be taken seriously. “‘They’ve had their chance at me,” muttered Bremerton hoarsely, “and some day I'll get my chance at them.” He tried to lift himself to his knees, but the white stems of the cottonwoods danced mistily around him, and again he flattened out on the earth. Water would revive him. If he could get to the canal— He crawled in the direction of the ditch, digging into the ground with his fingers, and pulling and pushing him- self on. Pains, like daggers, stabbed him in a dozen places. For all that, he found he could use his arms and legs, so it could not be that any bones were broken. | COMicdoo S CO@