Arizona Round-Up — page 82: what you’re looking at

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

80 WILLIAM HOPSON shells from the six chambers. There were only five. Burnett never carried a live cartridge beneath the hammer except in an emerg- ency. Too many men had gotten a leg half shot off that way. Howard pulled his own gun and covered Tex as he cautiously handed over the empty weapon. Tex took it and slid it into the sheath from which it had come. “You're sure I was wearing this one when I came in?” he asked. “Of course,” grunted Howard. “I took it off you, as we all saw. But no funny stuff, mister. One trick and Ill shoot you right through the belly.” | Tex slid. the heavy weapon back out of the sheath. He held it up and pointed to a bright spot on the left side of the muzzle. “See that? The bluing is rubbed off where it rubbed against my thigh. It’s a right-hand gun and it’s never been away from me since I arrived in town yesterday. Now give me the other one.” He tossed the gun to Bothwell, deftly caught the second, and slid it into the empty left-hand sheath, removed it again. The bright spot was on the right-hand side of the muzzle this time. “This is a left-hand gun I’ve worn for years. It’s the one found ‘beside the body of the miner who was killed last night. The worn part of the barrel shows I’ve always worn it on the left side, and Pearson or Lily Owens or anybody else in town will tell you I haven't worn it while here.” Bothwell took off his big hat and scratched his head, his slow mind trying to assimilate the facts. Carriker was much faster. “It’s possible, Mister, but it don’t prove a lot yet.” “Then perhaps this will,” Tex replied, and his hand went to his left breast. He turned the shirt pocket inside out, revealing a bright badge with the words Sheriff, Red Arrow County, Texas, stamped into it. . “Maybe so,” growled the uncertain Bothwell, shaking his bull head doggedly. “But it don’t mean a thing. You could buy one of them things any place; a hull half dozen of them for every county in the country. We'll just go ahead an’ lock you up an’ send word down there. If it’s true, well turn you loose an’ apologize.” “Sure,” grunted Tex. “When I’m six feet under. Listen to that ‘mob down there. They've gone out of control. They're out for blood and likely as not any man in this jail will be hoisted up by a rope just for good measure.” comicbooks.com