Argosy All-Story Weekly, November 13, 1920 — page 40: what you’re looking at

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

318 “ Half of nothin’s nothin!” replied the Texan. ‘I ain’t goin’ nowhere!” “You better listen to reason an’ give yerself up. If you do we let you off with a hundred dollars fine, an’ damages—if you don’t, ’m goin’ to charge you with shoot- in’ to kill, an’ send you up to Deer Lodge fer a year. You got just one minute to think it over. It’s gettin’ dark, an’ I ain’t had no supper.” ‘Me neither. You go on ahead an’ get yours first; an’ then hurry. back an’ let me go.” ‘IT ain’t foolin’! do?” “Shoot to kill—if that’s charged with.” The marshal leaped back as a bullet sung past his head. As darkness gathered the crowd poured volley after volley into the saloon, and the Texan replied sparingly, and between shots he drank whisky. It was dark inside the building, and the cowboy could see the flash.of the guns in the street. Suddenly the bombardment ceased. ‘Wonder what they’re up to now?’’ he muttered, peering between the kegs. He was finding it hard to concentrate his thoughts, and passed a hand across his forehead as if to brush away the cobwebs that were clogging his brain. “T’ve got to outguess ’em!” He shook himself fiercely. ‘‘ Le’s see, if they rush me in the dark some of ’em’s due to fall down cellar where Ike left the trap open, an’ some of ’em’s goin’ to get mixed up with the bottles an’ beer-kegs. If I don’t shoot, they won’t know where I am, an’ while they’re ontanglin’ themselves maybe I can slip away in the dark.” A light flared suddenly beyond the wood- en partition, flickered a moment, and burned steadily. The Texan’s eyes widened as his hands closed about the butts of his guns. “ Goin’ to burn me out, eh?” he sneered, and then, with a smile, laid the two guns on the bar and watched the glow that softened the blackness about the edges of the screen. What you goin’ to o . what I’m “They can’t burn me without burnin’ up their whole damn little wooden town,” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. he speculated. ‘“ But what in the devil do they want with a light?” With the words on his lips, the light moved, and once more he reached for his guns. A candle appeared around the end of the partition that formed the doorway. The Texan fired, and the room was plunged into darkness. And then, through the inky blackness, thick. with the pungent powder smoke, sounded a cry—a jerky, stabbing cry—a cry of mortal fear—a woman’s cry—that woman’s cry: “Tex—Tex! Strike a light!’ The Texan reeled as from a blow; the gun dropped from his nerveless fingers and thudded*upon the floor. He leaned weakly against the back-bar. He was conscious that his eyes were staring—straining to pierce the blackness in the direction of the sound—and yet he knew there was nothing there. His mouth went dry, and he could dis- tinctly hear his own breathing. He pulled himself jerkily erect and clawed the edge of the bar. His groping hand closed about an object hard and cylindrical. It was the quart bottle of whisky from which he had filled his glass. Suddenly he shuddererd. ‘It’s the booze,” he thought. ‘It’s got me—at last—I’m—I’m bugs!” The bottle slipped through his fingers and rolled along the bar, and the air became heavy with the fumes of the liquor that splashed unheeded from its mouth. He passed his hand across his brow and withdrew it slip- pery and wet with sweat. “God!” Thickly the word struggled from between the dry lips. He stooped, his hand groping for the gun, his fingers closed uncertainly upon the butt, and as he straightened up the muzzle swung slowly into line with his own forehead. And in that instant a light puff of cool air fanned his dripping forehead. The gun stopped in its slow arc. - The lids closed for an instant over the horribly staring eyes. The shoulders stiff- ened, and the gun was laid gently upon the bar—for, upon that single puff of night air, delicate, subtle—yet unmistakably distinguishable from the heavy powder smoke and the reeking fumes of the whis- (EAM Lovexe) <S (E@)