Argosy, Vol. 118, No. 4 — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

THE TRAIL HORDE. You and I have never got along well, but I want you to know I didn’t know it was your boy I punished.” “ Hell’s fire!’’ snarled Singleton. “ What -you interferin’ in the schoolhouse for? What business you got buttin’ in?” It was clear that Singleton’s rage was again rising. He must have noticed that the scholars had crowded around the door, and that Jimmy was watching him, no doubt disappointed that the salutary pun- ishment for which he had hoped was being unnecessarily delayed. Undoubtedly the presence of the children contributed to Singleton’s anger; but at bottom was his old dislike of Lawler—a dislike that the incident of the whipping had increased to hatred. It was plain that Singleton meditated violence. Yet it was equally plain that he feared Lawler. He had never seen Lawler draw a gun, but he had heard ‘tales of the man’s ability with the weapon. There lingered in his mind at this minute—as it had dwelt during all the days he had known Lawler—the knowledge that Lawler’s father had been a gun-man of wide reputation, and that he had taught his son the precision that made him famous in the deadly art. That knowledge had always exerted a de- terring influence upon Singleton; there had been times when he would have drawn a gun on Lawler had it not been that he feared the son might be as swift as the father. So Singleton had assured himself; he was not afraid of Lawler, he was afraid of the reputation of Lawler’s father. Singleton was reluctant to admit that it was not Lawler’s gun that he was afraid of, but something that was in the man himself— in his confident manner, in the level glance of his eyes; in the way he looked at Single- ton—seeming to hint that he knew the man’s thoughts, and that when the time came—if it ever came—he would convince Singleton that his fears were well founded. And, singularly, Singleton knew it; he knew that if he drew his gun on Lawler, Lawler would anticipate the movement; Singleton had become convinced of it—the conviction had become an obsession. That was why his rage had cooled so suddenly when he had entered the schoolroom. 493 But he knew, too, that Lawler never sought trouble; that within the past few years—or since Singleton had known him— he had never drawn the gun that reposed at his hip. And that knowledge brought the rage surging back into Singleton’s veins. He knew he could talk to Lawler; that he could say some of the things that were in his mind—that had been in his mind all along; and that he would be safe so long as he kept his hands away from his guns. As he snarled his questions at Lawler he took a step toward him. His eyes were truculent again, his lips in the pout that had been on them when he had entered. ° If: Lawler didn’t go for his gun he need have no fear of him. For he was bigger than Lawler, stronger. And if he could goad Lawler into using his fists instead of the dreaded gun he had no doubt of the out- come. “Singleton,” replied Lawler, answering the questions that had been hurled at him, ‘““what I am here for is my business. I don’t feel a heap like explaining it.” “ Business — bah!” sneered Singleton. ‘““T reckon the business that brought you here could be carried on better with no kids around.” Singleton saw a pin-point of fire glow in Lawler’s eyes. But he noted with venomous satisfaction that Lawler’s hand did not move upward the slightest fraction of an inch toward his gun, and he laughed discordant- ly, taking another step toward Lawler, so that he would be close enough to strike when the time came. ‘* Lawler,” he said, sticking his face close to the other’s, his eyes glittering with the malignant triumph that had seized him over the conviction that Lawler would not try to draw his gun, “ I’s figgerin’ on wal- lopin’ you like you walloped my kid. Understand? I’m aimin’ to make you fight—with your fists. I’m goin’ to knock hell out of you, that’s just exactly what I’m goin’ to do!”’ Lawler had not moved. Had Singleton not been so obsessed with thoughts: of an easy victory he might have noted that the pin-point of fire that had glowed in Lawler’s eyes had grown larger, and that his muscles had stiffened. Also, had Singleton been mM (Cl QO) NOOK