Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 1, 1922 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

804 goin’ to wake up one of these mornin’s to find us sittin’ right on his tail.” ~ CHAPTER II. ‘“‘ FAVESDROPPERS HEAR NO GOOD—”’ N a thinly settled country, where every man’s movements are marked, news spreads quickly. People talked and won- dered about Bodine. Who was he, and what foolish ambition led him to try his luck on such a hopeless place? Of all those who watched and wondered no one was more interested than Dick Ack- lin, the Big Boss of the Double A. He had been quite content to see old man Webster go. For ten years the Double A had taken both its own and his share of water from Rebel Creek. Even so, it did not suffice. Acklin’s crying need was more water. Many times he had been inclined to buy in the Webster place, but it was so worthless that he had never taken it seriously. Bodine’s buying it awakened old misgivings. Acklin knew that the right man could make him a lot of trouble. Webster’s water rights might still be made the basis of a long, expensive lawsuit. He stood it as long as he could; and then, instead of bearding Bodine, he rode to the Rancho Buena Vista to see the Sefior Arras- cada. The old Basque met him as a friend. José was the most powerful of the Basque. gente. The patriarchal old man abated not one whit of his dignity in the presence of his powerful neighbor. Acklin, indeed, was a frequent visitor. The Rancho Buena Vista did honor in his behalf. And, yet, more often, the feudal lord came to do honor to the Sefiorita Mercedes, its beauti- ful mistress. The hacienda was a low, rambling struc- ture, its wings inclosing a patio which, to all practical purposes, made the rear of the house the front. Acklin surveyed it with a trace of envy. The cool, quiet, half-darkened house was a relief after the noise and glare of the Bull’s Head. José led him to the patio, where cool zephyrs seemed eternally playing. With a sigh of relief’ Acklin sank into the big, comfortable chair his host offered. The ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. old man clapped his hands, and the wrin- kled, leathery Mariano, his mozo, or house boy, came on the run. José sent him for refreshments. Almost instantly he was back, bearing tall, tinkling glasses of cool delight. They sipped their drinks in silence. From where they sat they could hear the crooning waters of Rebel Creek, seventy-five yards away. Acklin’s eyes roamed the patio, with its beds of Indian pinks and lupines. A cleverly contrived ditch brought its life- giving waters to the flowers. From the shel- ter of its grassy banks a frog croaked queru- lously. José offered him one of his choice cigars. ‘“‘ My friend,’” he asked, ‘‘ what brings you to the Rancho Buena Vista this time— business or pleasure?” “It’s always a pleasure to come here, senor. But business; that’s something else. By the way ”—and Acklin’s big, blue eyes contracted until they seemed to shade to gray—‘ have you seen the fellow who bought the old Webster place?”’ “‘ Several times. He’s here to-day, down at the corral. Esteban and the vaqueros are breaking horses.’’ “ What's his game?” Acklin snapped. ‘Senor, the man is no fool! I sold him a bull two days ago. He haggled over the price to the last penny. I think he will do what he says he will do.” “Humph! He’sa fool! Where is he go- ing to get his water? A well? That makes me laugh. I wouldn’t take that ranch as a gift. As a matter of fact, haven’t you warned half a dozen of your people against taking it?” “ That is true, my friend,” José asserted. “You remember how the creek used to lose itself in the quicksands below the house? Webster tried to save that water many times; but everywhere he turned he found quicksand. I am afraid a well there would fill up as soon as it was dug.” “There you are!”’ Acklin got to his feet. He was a big man, good to look at and younger than his appearance implied. “‘ Did you tell him about the quicksand?”’ “Sé/ He said it didn’t worry him— ‘none,’ I think he said.’ ‘‘ Of course not; it’s a game. You mark comicloool C©