Arizona Round-Up — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

ARIZONA ROUNDUP o Burnett laughed and the driver laughed too. He was hardly an upright-looking type of citizen, but Tex was a pretty good judge of character, and he liked the man. He said, “Well, I reckon I'll go on in. See you later maybe.” “Figgerin’ on staying’ around?” “No telling.” “Mind if I ask your name? Mine’s Jed Haraway. I could say I'd been about everything from a stage coach driver to a tinhorn gambler.” “Have you?” grinned the sheriff from Texas. “Freighter is good enough,” was the reply. “Jed Haraway, freighter.” | “I’m Tex Burnett,” Tex said. “Long way from home.” “Texas, eh? Never been there. Too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter, what I hear. Staying with us for a while?” “All depends,” Tex replied, lifting the reins. “I’m a creature of impulse . . . sometimes.” The bearded man in the seat of the huge wagon let that one sink in for a moment as the team plodded on. He looked ahead, his thoughtful gaze going out over the rumps of the big four. His eyes had a peculiar look in them, and Tex found the look vaguely disturbing. For the life of him he couldn't understand why. He wondered what Jed Haraway, freighter, would look like without that beard. “Well,” Haraway finally offered, “maybe you'll like it and may- be not, Tex. Maybe you'll stay, maybe not. Maybe you'll ride out; maybe they'll pack you out. It’s that kind of a town. She’s rugged, that I can tell you. Now, advice is free and any fool can offer it. If it cost a dollar a throw there-wouldn't be so much of it thrown around. But because I ain’t chargin’ you I’m goin’ to pass some along. Best hotel in town—if you can call it a hotel—is the Silver Pound, owned by the man who stables my team in back of it. That is, it’s the best if you can get a room. You cant. If you don’t find a place to bunk, go in back of the Pound's stable and look for that big cabin about two hundred yards away. It’s mine and I can find room for you. Keep away from the Golden Pheasant. It's run by a woman. Some says as how she’s good and a lot of others say as how’s she’s an angel with black wings. Anyway, it’s sharp from the word go, with a bunch of tinhorns hanging around there comicbooks.com