Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 67 — page 142: what you’re looking at

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

WAIF ASTRAY “Are you implying——” she demanded, and her voice had the quality of the buzz saw in Ed Harrison’s back yard, “are you implying, you nasty little trader man Jeb Vogelsang, that my dear departed sister went a hay- loftin-——”’ *“Ain’t implying nothing!” snapped Jeb. “All I’m a saying is that if you never went over to see your sister, how the tarnation blazes can you know what she did, or what kids she had?” *“‘When she had a kid,” said Emma sullenly, ‘“‘she writ, just to let us know.” Jeb looked up from an article headed “President Again Threatened.” He barked: “‘And she writ to tell you her latest was a boy named Billy!” He threw down his paper. He rose and went to the door. *Reckon I'll take a walk. Hey, where did Billy go?” “He snuck out. [ll tan the daylight out’n him, “f he stays out all night again. Way he steals out——_-” “Gramps Marson says he got Indian blood in him.” “Gramps Marson’s a old fool!” The last words were hurled at a swiftly closing door; Jeb preferred the bar when con- versation started to go this way. The bar saw quite a lot of him. Billy made his practised way over the tumble of garden lots, a dark skipping shape in the moonlight. He was into and out of Ed Harrison’s yard before the dog could do more than give a couple of pre- liminary growls. Once the town was behind him he struck the road again, then dodged round the clump of trees and into the illkept garden, up to the dingy frame house. He knocked, then jiggled a loose board which . his foot found to play with as he waited, nursing the bundle of food inside his_ shirt. Then the door creaked open, and Sam Leary stood there, wearing his old brown shirt and his faded jeans. “Hi Billy.” He paused. “Uncle Mike ain’t in.” “Swell.” Billy saw Sam. hesitate. “‘Then what you waitin’ for? They'll bring him in like always, hah?” He dived his hand in at his chest. “See, I’m taking up bread and sausage——”’ His voice was winning. A spell, a little spell. Sam’s hesitation vanished, as Billy had known it vanish before, 141 conmicloooks.com