Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 66 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

THE OLD FIRM Overhead the corrugated metal roof of the big building shut out the stars, casting deep shadowsacrosstheserried rows of bins. Each bin must have been at least fifteen feet tall, with a light metal ladder running up the side leading to the hopper at the top. The door through which they had sneaked now blacked out again as a fresh intruder came in. “Tl know that we bye-passed the guard easily enough,” Vaun murmured. “But this guy must be good to get past.” ““You know the opposition is tough,” same Calshot’s hoarse whisper. “‘Now shut up. He’s coming this way.” The area of deeper darkness that was a prowler moved closer. There was the muffled chink of metal on metal. Then a dim flash of light glanced from the smooth flank of a wheat bin. The two Terrans waited. The intruder was_labor- iously climbing one of the ladders leading onto the top of a bin, and his slow pro- 23 gress was explained by the bulky sack he had slung over one shoulder. His dark figure stood up with a little grunt, then they heard the lid of the hopper clank open. “All right,” Vaun said sharply. ““We don’t want any of that stuff in the bins. You can come down now, who- ever you are.” He shone the light from his torch full on the standing figure atop the storage bin. There was a shouted oath. The man flung an arm across the white oval of his face, brilliantly picked out by the merciless glare. The next in- stant he had jerked the other arm up and a shot crashed out, magnified and thunder- ous, in the confines of the warehouse. Vaun_ staggered back and dropped the flash- light. Darkness dropped back like a thunder cloud. Calshot catfooted around the bin. Vaun said, quickly: “I’m okay, Cal. Smashed the lamp.” Calshot didn’t reply. He conmicloooks.comn