Arizona Round-Up — page 66: what you’re looking at

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

_ 64 WILLIAM HOPSON The freighter got up, nodding. “I know,” he said. “Nor will he be the only one. You see, Tex, the third man of that trio who held up the stage was my stepson Lance. You'll find it out anyhow, so I might as well tell you.” “That will be hard on your daughter.” “I warned her,” Haraway said again, almost harshly this time. He got up and strode toward the stage, climbing up over the wheel and into the seat. “See you later, maybe.” “North of town at that big spring, in case it’s urgent. But come up carefully. There'll be a guard.” Haraway nodded and unwrapped the lines. He drove over to where the dead shotgun guard lay sprawled beside the ruts, and again the three passengers loaded a dead man inside. The stage set off southward, back toward the gulch, carrying its grim load, and Tex loped into the timber. Chapter Thirteen EACON SELLERS turned as the front doors of the Pheasant crashed inward and a man ran into the room. It was one of those who had gone out to help chase the cowhands from the gulch. The miner hutried over, spurs clanking from the heels of his lace boots. Pearson rose from the table which served as vigilante headquarters. “What's up, Lane?” he inquired. “You look excited. Those saddle tramps give you any trouble?” a -“None at all,” the miner replied excitedly, his eyes blazing. “We found their camp, stuck guns in their faces, and sent em on their way without no trouble. But, Pearson, there’s plenty ‘ of it. Three men stuck up the stage ‘bout four mile above here. All wearin’ masks. They killed old Hank, the shotgun guard, comicbooks.com