Adventure, February 1917 — page 142: what you’re looking at

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

>= = a cas 2 foe : ~~ Per a aa te :: ‘ = <a . . oe ee . ats Adventure 140. = McNabb’s = Ss and drew fier cautiously, from their holsters. = Hale stepped - ‘backward a few feet, ‘stopped and said evenly— “Git up, Linderman, and make a light.” “McNabb stirred, awoke. Hale repeated his order. — ‘McNabb reached for his weap-" ons and discovered that they weré gone. Then he rose, ‘scratched a match and ap- plied it to the lamp’s wick. Three more _ seconds, and the log-walled room was aglow. . % ae as GS Big Linderman stared, The two revol- && cd “Put on yore clo’es,” said Hale. vers. were trained squarely toward his breast, and they wavered none at all. Hale knew the use of firearms; his fighting father had seen to that. “Put on yore clo’ 25,22 said Hale. ~McNabb reasoned that there was noth- ing to be lost by obedience, and he dressed =“Set: dagen thar at the table,” ae ‘dered sharply. e ‘Hale frowned. tell ye to do, I’m li’ble to kill ye. : gawspel, ef ever I spoke it. The gther sat down. _ “Well, now what?” “Le ’s don’ t have no misonderstandin’, - “Ef you don’t do what I 3 At’s I’m a-comin’ a oO” ‘the hole 3 ye put me in, Linderman, or MeN, ab scowled heavily and darkly, and his cruel black ¢ eyes flashed like powder-fire. - Hale thrust one-o the two revolvers inside the waistband of his corduroy trousers, and with his free. hand took a short pencil and : = _ a sheet of Sa SS COaE: pockets i before his enemy don’t think? ese he dropped to the table ‘é aE $5. t mana “Confession; eh?” growled McNabb. “Not edzactly,” Sud Hale. ‘Dyin’ state- ; ment, maybe, is a better name forit. Don’t you move toward me, Linderman! Now you listen to me, Linderman, whilst I talk. “Tm in a bad fix, and it was you ’at aeeeaed me and. dawgged me ontel ye put ~ me whar I’m at. But I’m a-comin’ out or die. Git that. You think I’m a coward but I “ain't. But— well, s’posen I am. Hain’t you got plain hoss. sense enough to know ’at a coward in a cawner is the wo’st fighter in the world? Now don’t you make a move toward me, d’ye onderstand? Are you afeard to fight me, Linderman?” “I’m not afraid to fight anybody,” was the ready answer. ‘ a a 2 aa ‘Hale or- y note-paper from one of his . “You hain’t? All right. Listen to me. S’posen we each writes a dyin’ suicide state- ment, which will clear the man ’at lives; then s’posen we each takes one o’ these two guns and goes at it?” “That suits me,” smiled McNabb. Hale was a fool! Was not he, Linderman Mc- Nabb, a gun-fighter noted all along the bor- derland and as far north as Denver? He could easily fill Hale’s body full of lead be-' fore Hale could fire a single shot. “Write,” said Hale. ‘Write ’at you’re plumb dead tired o’ livin’. Write ’at you’re a-goin’ to kill yoreself. Write ’at it was you blowed the safe, and you ’at put them things in my suit-case. Git‘at it!” McNabb took up the stub ofa pencil and hurriedly wrote that which Hale had told him to write. Then he made as if to go to his feet. Hale jabbed a revolver toward “Set still!’ he clipped; and McNabb sat still. , Le’ me see the statement, Linder- man.’ McNabb pished the sheet across the table. Hale, still watching his man with half his eyes, read it and saw that it was all he wanted it to be. He faced McNabb triumphantly. “‘Now,” he said, thrusting the confession into one of the pockets of his corduroy coat, “T’ve got you! Don’t move! What’s to hender me from shootin’ you and leavin’ yore dyin’ suicide statement and the two guns thar on the table? - It’d clear me, wouldn’t it? Icouldn’t never fight you with a gun, Linderman; you know that. It looks like shootin’ you right now is the one way out for me, don’t it?” Big Linderman McNabb saw that he had been outwitted. He went very pale. As long as he had had his two six-guns, he really had feared nothing in heaven or on earth. But now—he was dough. He was speech- less. “T shore don’t like to kill a man,” went on Hale, carrying out his big idea to the let- ter. ‘“The’s one way out for you, too, Lin- derman. But you wouldn’t never give me sech a chanst.”’ “What is it?”’ chattered McNabb. The eyes of the revolver-barrels didn’t seem quite so black now. “It’s this,” said Hale boldly. “You gi’ me the rest o’ the money you got out o’ the safe, so’s I’ll have plenty to take me away out West whar you was at—and I'll give EOPMIEL OOO € S (©)