Arizona Round-Up — page 74: what you’re looking at

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

Chapter J: leen EANWHILE, after the killing of Newt Thurby four miles or so north of town, the two remaining road agents finished spurring their horses down over a ridge and out of sight. One of them looked back as they dropped from view, and jerked off his mask. “Whew!” gasped Lance Haraway, spurring in alongside his companion. “Now the fat’s in the fire for sure. Youre in a tough spot, Bud.” “Me?” called back Bailey, his own mask also off. “Sure I’m in bad. I’m burnin’ the breeze back before the stage gets there an’ gettin the rest of the boys. We'll all light a shuck.” “What do you mean by this ‘we’ business? I ain’t got any reason to run. Newt didn't belong to my bunch. Nobody'll know I was in on it.” Bailey didn’t answer. They topped another ridge and, hidden by the timber looked back. Lance Haraway began loading his empty pistol. _“He’s stoppin’ up there by Newt,” Bailey announced, raising high in the stirrups. “Near’s I can see, Newt is down an’ down fer sure.” Now that pursusit had stopped they could blow their horses. Bud Bailey began to reload his own weapon. “That was sure a fool thing for Newt to do—shooting old Hank outa the seat that way,’ Lance Haraway complained. “Wasn't no reason for it. The old man would have dropped his gun and put up his hands anyway.” “Maybe,” growled the gunman. “But he was a’ old timer an’ most of them old devils are as salty as the bottom of the ocean. That was the only way to play it safe—bust ‘em out without warnin’. “Which,” grunted the younger man sourly, “was why I was 72 | comicbooks.com