Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 1, 1922 — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

818 and gray. Kildare recognized the man with Morrow. In an indefinable way there was something vaguely familiar about him. Blaze wondered if the other man felt it too, because they scrutinized each other closely before Cash spoke: “The wagon will be here in a few min- utes. Widget will stir up some breakfast. Brent will relieve you. Ill send Melody and the rest of them back here. When you all have eaten, you can drift home and roll in. Skip will fix you up. Say, it’s a won- der you didn’t bump off somebody last night, Kildare.” . ‘TI wasn’t even nervous, Cash. I’m slow on the trigger; but I aim to be pretty ef- ficient when I get started.” “Your path will be covered with roses if you only remember to keep your eyes Open and your mouth shut. It’s my way of judging whether a man is worth his salt or not. I fancy you'll do to take along with us.” The boys rode up at that instant, closely followed by the heaving wagon. Cash jogged over to see it safely across the creek. Bodine offered Blaze a cigarette. ‘Cash told me about your part in that little show last night,” he laughed. ‘‘ You must have given the boys a thrill.” Bodine’s cordiality grated on Blaze. For a brief second Kildare had thought the big man might be Acklin; but Cash would have made that known instantly. Blaze was tired and sour on the world after the long stretch; and the sight of this individual’s pleasure in the morning, as well as a sud- den inbred dislike for the man, led him to fire away at a guess: “You were there then?” Bodine stared at him for a while before his jaw relaxed. “Don’t be so positive. I’m not a Double A man.” ‘¢ Now that makes my vote unanimous,” Blaze drawled. ‘ That little show was strictly a family party. I don’t guess Cash would be exactly talkative about it.” The threat and implication were not lost on Bodine; but he chose to ignore them. Quite cleverly he retreated from his posi- tion by the means of bluff camaraderie. “We'll see quite a lot of each other in ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. the next few weeks,” he went on, “ so I'll backwater on my whereabouts. I’m Buck Bodine. I bought the old Webster place a while back. You can guess where we line up.” Cash joined them, and he and Bodine went on. Blaze ambled over to where Wid- get was going through the motions that meant breakfast for him. The new hand was looked over by the boys, and, with the freemasonry of the cow-country, was given a nod and a greeting. Right or wrong, these men stuck by their first likes and dis- likes. Brother Jones, timeworn but still effective, chewed the ends of his mustache. “¢ Say, son,” he mumbled, “ they’s no hell like a cowboy hell, as it would seem you have lived to learn; but this outfit will add to your education. I am quite won to you by your kindly eye. It’s a full month to pay-day. Seek my advice often and with consideration, if you would prosper. In me you see a man bent with age, and pen- niless, too, because of these young thieves. They draw their pay from the Double A, but they work the double-cross. Oh, yes, they do!” Cries of “ Liar!” and ‘‘ Amen!” greeted this speech. ‘‘Come and get it,” Widget bawled. Brent cut out from the bunch, and the others paced away. Having eaten his fill, Blaze crawled under the wagon to sleep. The sun was out and riding high by the time the four men headed for home. Half a mile east of the creek they met the fenc- ing gang. There was no lost motion here. No sooner were the holes dug than the cedar posts were in place. Another man tamped down the ground around them. Drums of wire were mounted on a wagon. The teamster would cluck to his horses; the wagon would move ahead, the drums would revolve, and the busy hammers would send the staples home. There was art in its pre- cision. Noontime brought Blaze to the Bull’s Head. No sign of rain lingered. It was hot. Green bottleflies droned in the white, plastered rooms above. MacGregor, the ranch blacksmith, was busy at his forge; but for him the Bull’s Head appeared to slumber. comicloool C©