The Argosy, Vol. 90 No. 1 — page 128: what you’re looking at

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

122 THE ARGOSY. to get back where he could keep awake, ‘about that affair last night; something we at least in the daytime.” This touching confidence, hintin’ at ex- periences of our guest in wonders of un- rest beyond my ken, which I hadn’t sup- posed existed, kind o’ locoed me. ‘Well, now, ain’t that too bad?” I mur- mured, somewhat at random. “Oh, I dunno,” blatted Uncle Billy, with sordid satisfaction. “ He handed me a two-spot.” Seemed like Uncle couldn’t think of nothin’ but that pair o’ numbered aces, so I paced along. And for my life, I couldn’t make it seem, despite tke circumstantial evidence, that Haswell was afraid of Sage- brush. There must be some explanation, if we could find it. So the idea struck me of bein’ a sort of emissary to this feathered kiddo of a Dan Cupid. I had a feeling that trouble ex- isted between two potential lovin’ souls that had.ought to be in harmony. So I started for Mangan’s eatery to see Gussie, thinkin’ in a vague way that I could mebbe fix it up between ’em. For, in spite of all appearances, I couldn’t shake loose from my instinct that the Haswell citizen was O. K. Say two city blocks from Mangan’s, I passed Alf MacDermott’s pony, standin’ by the wooden walk, with his bridle trailin’ and his ears laid back. I expect Alf was under some table in Larrabee’s saloon op- posite, not woke up yet from the night be- fore, and the cayuse was waiting for him. Alf was the most daring rider in the West, bar none. He was a cowboy on the Bar-Z ranch, forty mile out, and he pos- sessed in the shape o’ Heat Lightning, this mustang, the worst fiend that a cow- puncher ever slung a saddle onto. He had conquered him as a colt, and no other Stetsonized and chapped son-of-a-ranger had ever succeeded in flingin’ a leg over Heat Lightning without strikin’ a tree or somethin’ else immediate afterward. I kept on and turned into the gustatory factory. There’s Gussie standin’ behind the counter, looking puffy under the eyes as if she’d passed a salty night. “ Say, girly,” I preambled, ‘“‘I can’t get loose from the idea there’s some mistake don’t know. Have you seen this Haswell male since then?” “No, Uncle Pete,” she chirped defiant, “and I don’t want to! What mistake could there be? Ain’t he packin’ to leave, like Sagebrush told him to do?” Right there I got a glimmer of light. ‘But can’t you see,” I argued, “ that mebbe it ain’t on account of what Sage- brush said, but on account of what you said.” ; And while I imparted that flash that had come to me, I reflected that, considerin’ she wanted him to go away, and never wanted to see him again, she was showin’ a toler’ble degree of interest in his prepar- in’ for departure. At my words her map lights up with the flame of hope, which is at once extin- guished by the hose of memory. “It don’t jibe, Uncle Pete,” she assert- ed. “If he wa’n’t afraid of him, why would he stand and take his sass? Why wouldn’t he naturally take a chance to try to dent him through the wall? Now you’re gen’rous aS you can be, wantin’ to be a comfort, but it ain’t no go. Tl tell you what you do. You go look up some trou- bles of your own an’ ’tend to ’em!” I went, without feelin’ resentful. Gussie was always sort o’ independent toward my sex in Cactus City. Besides, any peace- maker had ought to be a sort of philoso- pher in advance. He'll need it. Came noon, an’ the grand slam. I’d been down the street, tryin’ to bor- row a ten-spot, but my friend had spoke first an’ I’d lent him my last two bits. Kind o’ chastened, I’d arrived nearly in front of Mangan’s. There was Sagebrush Jake an’ a friend, approachin’ me. Sage- brush seemed to be quite sober. Just then down the steps comes trippin’ Gussie Lindley, on some errand or other. Sagebrush must have been feeling his oats over the night before, and thought he was some hero in her eyes, for he grinned like a catamount and stopped. “ Hello, Gussie!” he boomed. * Didn't I tell that spongy flapjack a mouthful last night?” It didn’t make a hit with Gussie, no- oO Comicbooe S CO