Arizona Round-Up — page 78: what you’re looking at

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

76 WILLIAM HOPSON “That gun of Burnett’s they found beside that dead miner Doolin,” Jed replied. “It came out of Tex’s carpet bag that was in my cabin. Only you and I knew the bag was there. I didn’t know about the other gun.” “You saying I killed that man and robbed him to frame Bumett?” snarled Lance. “Uh-huh. I don’t know why. But you framed the man who might yet be the means of saving us all—at least Lily. Things have changed during the past few hours while you boys have been out busy waylaying a stagecoach to hold up a man who wasn't on it. Pearson is out to break Lil and seems to be using his vigilantes to help. I heard men who a weck ago were borrow- ing money from her to gamble with and eating at her food counter on credit until pay day—I heard those same men cursing her for running a crooked outfit. I heard it as I went up the street to tell her you were in on the holdup. She's got nothing left now. Bud here and his gun packers are out. They'll be swung if they set foot in town again. I saw that shifty-eyed gang of tinhorns walking around on tiptoe, not knowing whether to run or just go change their clothes and put on unsoiled ones—they’re that uneasy and scared.” “They always were a bunch of yellow-bellied cowards,” cut in Lance. “Never saw a tinhorn gambler yet who had any puts.” Haraway eyed his son. “There were a few,” he said quietly. “Burnett, for example, though he hardly comes in the category of a tinhorn. There were others like Hole-Card Pete and Sansone and one or two more who could.take it when the going got rough, but that’s neither here nor there. I’m down here trying to save your life because Lily will risk her own to see that you don't swing if they catch you. I don’t care about losing you. Not because she’s my own flesh and blood and you're not. It wouldn't have made any difference. But you were a killer first. Then you turned murderer. And topped it off by a road agent job where cold-blooded murder was done. I’m not angry at you, son. I’m just sorry. So I want you to get out for her sake. You owe her that much for all she’s done for you. Even a back-shooting mur- derer wouldn't be low enough to let his sister risk her life for him. I want you to go.” It had been about the longest speech that Lance Haraway comicbooks.com