Adventure Magazine Cover — page 81: what you’re looking at

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

a The Heart of the Range three of yuh enough to take care of any mistakes?” At which Doc Coffin’s right hand flashed downward. Racey drove an accurate bullet through Doc Coffin’s mouth. The bullet, ranging upward and making its exit through the parietal bone, let in the light on Doc’s hitherto darkened intellect in more ways than one. Doc Coffin’s forefinger, tightening con- vulsively on the trigger of its wearer’s six- shooter, sent an unaimed shot downward. But previous to embedding itself in a floor board, the bullet passed through Honey Hoke’s foot. This disturbed Honey’s aim to such an extent that instead of shooting Racey through the head he shot Rack through the hat. Racey, attending strictly to his knitting, bored Honey Hoke with a bullet that re- moved the top of the second knuckle of Honey’s right hand, shaved a piece from the wrist-bone and then proceeded thoroughly to lacerate most of the muscles of the forearm before finally lodging in the elbow. Thus was Honey Hoke rendered innocuous for the time being. He was not a two-handed gun-fighter. As yet Punch-the-breeze Thompson had remained strictly neutral. His hands were on the table-top, and had been from the beginning. “It’s yore move, Thompson,” Racey said with significance. “Then Ill be goin’,” said Thompson calmly. “See you later—maybe.” So saying he rose to his feet, turned his back on Racey and walked out of the place. Racey had no illusions as to Thompson, but he obviously could not shoot him in the back. He let him go. window, he saw Thompson go to the hitch- ing-rail in front of the saloon, untie his horse, mount and ride away northward. And the blacksmith shop in front of which Peaches Austin was supposed to be on guard lay at the south end of the street. Where then was Thompson going? ‘“‘Where’s he goin’?”” he demanded of the now wriggling Rack Slimson. “Huh? Who? Punch? I dunno.” “Where’s Jack Harpe?” “T dunno.” “Yo’re a liar. “{ dunno! I dunno! gug-gug-chokin’ me!” “Vo’re lyin’ again. If I was chokin’ yuh Where is he?”’ I tell yuh! Yo’re Watching from a 71 yuh couldn’t talk. Yo’re talkin’, ain’t yuh? Where’s Jack Harpe?” “T dud-dud-dunno,” insisted Rack Slim- son, his teeth chattering as Racey shook “Ts he in town?” “T dud-dunno.”’ “Ts Thompson goin’ after him, do a think?” “TY dud-dunny-dunno!”’ “T guess maybe you don’t after all,” Racey said disgustedly, flinging the un- fortunate saloon-keeper from him with such force that the fellow skittered quite across the floor and sat down in the wash-pan into which the bartender was accustomed eS throw the broken glassware. “Ow-wowl” It was a hearty, Sit fuaved howl that Rack Slimson uttered as he bounded erect and clutched at his trousers. Racey’s eye brightened at the sight. “Y’ oughta knowed better than to sit down in all that glass. I could ’a’ told yuh ‘you'd get prickles in yuh. Why don’t yuh stand still an’ let yore barkeep pick ’em out for yuh? You can get most of the big pieces out with yore fingers,” he added to the bartender, who was gingerly emerging on all fours round the end of the bar. ‘“‘An’ the little ones you can dig out with a sharp knife. Yep, Rack, old-timer, Pll bet you won’t carry no more messages on hossback for a while.” THERE was a sudden crashing thud es at the back of the room. Honey ik F741 had fallen out of his chair. Now he lay on the floor, his legs drawn up and the rack. of his frowzy head resting against a rung of the chair in which still sat the dead body of Doc Coffin. Racey went to Honey and spread him out in a more comfortable position. Calloway and Judge Dolan entered the saloon together. “We thought we heard shootin’—” began Calloway, staring in astonishment at the grotesque posture Rack Slimson had _as- sumed, the better to endure the ministra- tions of the bartender. “We heard shootin’ all right,” said Judge Dolan, his glance sweeping past Slimson and the bartender to the rear of the room. “What’s happened, Racey?” queried Dolan, striding forward. ‘Both of ’em cashed?” Racey shook his head. ‘Doc Coffin (E@) (CO) LAL .IOoOKk