Fifteen Western Tales, March 1954 — page 52: what you’re looking at

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

a — = oe ” « 532 - 7 FIFTEEN WESTERN TALES WS) vi ; ~ Whispering Buckman, network of leaf-like shadows on his tarp. He had ten horses—with two more he. could bid on that freighting contract be- tween Fort Whipple and Camp Verde. That would give him six.teams, two at the Fort, two on the Verde and two spans for pulling the wagon—fresh horses for. . . . He opened his eyes. The moon was ‘down! ._He’d been asleep. He listened. The soft sigh of the early morning breeze springing up and the light breathing of his sleeping father were all he could hear. But something had awakened him. He strained to hear. Then it came to him. It was the lack of a familiar sound, not a strange noise that had awakened him. Tense, fright drying his mouth, he opened it to hear better. He slid his hand down the stock of his rifle, fitting it around the action. A cricket chirped, once. That was it! Something had scared the crickets, silenced them. There was an answering chirp. — Slowly, silently, Chip pulled his legs - from the covers and under him. He rose half erect before his racing mind had sorted out the absent noises. The horses! The soft-shearing sound of erazing horses wasn’t coming down the hill to him. Maybe they’d finished grazing ? But instantly Chip knew better. The gram- ma grasses were too sparse, a horse would have to graze all night to fill up. Chip’s searching fingers found a febble. He flipped it toward his sleeping father. The man woke with a ‘sharp. intake of breath.. No word. No other sound. For another half hour they crouched, silent, alert in the juniper thicket where they had hidden their beds the evening be- fore after cooking their suppers a mile away. ; Sometimes Chip thought his father, was too careful about Apaches. The older man’s caution when they were riding the range was some- times a hardship. Now Chip didn’t feel that way. Marauding Indians didn’t just steal horses. They’d just as easily kill too. Gradually the crickets along the hillside resumed their rhythmic song. Chip. slipped noiselessly to his father’s side. 3 The Indian-fighter whispered, “Varmint, red or -white, sneaked off your horses.” Chip felt sick inside. His fears had been confirmed. But he knew better than to race out into the open and begin a wild, noisy search for them. An hour passed while Chip followed his, father, slowly, silently from cedar to cedar along the hillside. The horses were gone. With them went Chip’s dreams. His mind was washed clean of fantasy. Then, finally, daylight came. They circled in ever-widen- ing arcs, cutting for’ the tracks of the ~ horses. Phen from an adjoining ridge, Chip’s father raised his hand. The youth - hurried over. Chip looked at the seve where ‘his father pointed. In the soft dirt thrown out by a burrow- ing prairie dog was the print of a moc- — casined foot. Indians! party ! (oe HURRIED along the wide trail left by the.ten driven horses. He glanced over “his shoulder at his father, expecting to see him following, but the man was again circling, head down looking for sign. Chip was irritated—there was that extreme caution again! They'd read the sign. The time for that was past. It was now time to be after them. _He wanted to run the raiding party down. | “Come on,” yelled Chip. “We know what happened. Let’s hit their trail.” The older. man only raised his hand while he continued to study the horse tracks. * Chip ignored ize father and started te run, not fast, but in a distance-consuming jog—a rate of speed he could ae up for hours, if need be. A. horse-stealing . EComicbooks co