Adventure Magazine Cover, February 3, 1921 — page 183: what you’re looking at

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

Law Weak of the Pecos “Not a thing in the world, thank you, ir. Ii I come out of this all right—well, all right. If not—” he looked up at the judge with a twisted grin—“‘bury me where the arrow falls.” Mike remained at the table after the judge had left. Over and over he was rehearsing just what he meant to do, cal- culating to the minutest fraction of a second all that would take place. There was no doubt about Pritchard’s being up and abroad, for with the first peep of day Mike well knew that Ace would be sitting on Wes’ chest with renewed imploring for explanations. : As Mike stepped out the gate, a couple of young boys werg, putting an old baseball down the groove, with the top of a worn- out camp-stove for a plate. “Here, give me a try at that old apple,” he called out, and for the next few minutes he tied them around the youngsters’ ears until they were dizzy. “Aw, be a sport!” they complained. “Take off your coat and stay withit. This is the last time you'll warm up that old soup-bone anyway.” But Mike shook off their importunities, cut across lots and started down Main Street with the boys following at a safe but still advantageous distance. When Mike swung down upper Main Street a hundred eyes noted at once that his right hand rested lightly in the pocket . of his blue serge coat. “Oh, mommer!”’ wailed a cowboy. ‘“He’s heard tell o’ Sam Bass’ hip-shootin’. Might jes’ as well ’a’ let that four six-bits he’s wasted on a gun go into his estate.” “Give th’ boy credit,” took up another. “He aims to go through th’ motions o’ de- fendin’ himself.” As Mike approached the Iron Front and the Pioneer Livery next door his every sense was quickened to its keenest. Ace was flattened like a fly against the front of the livery stable, bug-eyed, but grimly determined to be in at the death. Some sudden access of terror on Ace’s face gave Mike intuitive warning. Just as Pritchard lurched evil-eyed from the stable doorway, Connolly’s right hand whipped from his pocket, his arm swung round, and something shot forth just the decisive second before Pritchard’s gun spat. The next instant Mike ducked and slid home as Wes’ bullet went wild over his head. - “gressman had never partaken. 177 “Wes gave a grunt like a sledged hog, teetered for a moment on his high heels, and sprawled on his back in a sodden heap. “Some new-fangled gun,”’ shouted someone. ‘No flash, no smoke, no report.” Excited cries from up and down the street, and the crowd closed in. ‘There was an ugly bruise over Pritchard’s left temple, from which the blood trickled in a dark, sluggish stream across his unshaven cheek and down the open cellar of his shirt. Doc Wilkins forced his way through the crowd. Kneeling by the inert figure, he felt the pulse, listened for the heart, and finally turned back Pritchard’s _ eyelids. Wes’ glazing eyes, fully dilated, stared up at the crowd. “The man is dead,” the doctor pro- nounced, brushing the stable dust from his trousers. “Dead! Good ——, I only meant to stun him.” ; “Stun him? Stun him? Man, what was your weapon?” | “He done it with a rock,” shrilled Ace gleefully. “I got it right here. This galena specimen. I’m gonna keep it.' It’s mine. Gee, Mr. Connolly, did yuh . usta pitch for the Red Sex?” In the ensuing exciting babble Connelly felt a hand on his arm and tumed to face Judge Goode. “Come on, son, jes’ get away from here.” THEY walked toward thé seat of justice. Mike’s knees were feeling wabbly and he bit down hard on his lower lip to control a wretched feeling of nausea. At the town hall he dropped into a chair. The judge went around behind the bar and from a ‘private locker brought out a bottle, from which even the local con- For a while they sat over their drinks in silence. “T hope you don’t think I let them other fellows get shot up jes’ out of natural brutal- ity and orneryness? You don’t, do you?” “No, they took the chance when they took the job.” “You're right. I warned them. They wa’n’t only two killed...The third was a lunger. Got too excited arguing with a bad Mexican and died of a hemorrhage. A sight bigger bunch jumped the first train out and sent back for their duds after- wards. I could have handled the bad men myself, but I had a little idea in my old AMNICLOOOLKKS (C@ (C@