Arizona Round-Up — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

ARIZONA ROUNDUP 13 Jeaned with a foot on the rail, drinking slowly while he surveyed the crowd. There were a number of games going and Tex in- stinctively sought faces, studying each closely. They were mostly miners, with two well dressed, quiet-looking men proclaiming what they were themselves: professional gamblers. “Next one’s on the house, stranger,” the bartender said, as Tex toyed over his drink. “Thanks,” was the reply. “Seldom more than one before dinner.” | Dinner, thought the bartender. Here was a well dressed stranger wearing a gun at one hip—a well worn gun and sheath— who called supper dinner. He dressed like a well heeled cow- puncher or rancher—or perhaps a lJawman—but he had the hands of a gambler, a face of granite rock, and the manners of a gentleman. Dinner! Huhl The bartender was puzzled. Pearson was a pretty fair man, and level-headed except where Lily Owens was concerned. It was his right to find out as much as possible about such strangers as this one, so the bartender probed further. He asked the usual question, asked a million times before ona thousand ranges: “Stranger hereabouts?” he queried, sliding out the bottle anyhow. That man over there at the third table, Tex thought. It shouldn't be, but I'd know that left hand anywhere. Three-Finger Charley! “Never was there myself,” he said in answer to the bartender’s question. “Huh? Where?” “That state. Ad Valorem. Or maybe it’s Sic Transit. Ive for- votten,” he apologized. “No reason to, stranger,’ the barkeep said, completely con- fused. “It’s all right. Nobody around here apologizes fer any- thing. Come far?” “Repellitur a sacramento infamis.” The barkeep cleared his throat. He scratched his head and toyed with the bottle. “Why, shore,” he finally agreed. “I reckon. But I don’t speak Spanish.” comicbooks.com