Adventure, January 20, 1922 — page 161: what you’re looking at

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

Powder Law his hands on Chuck he’d jist squash him complete.” “Big enough,” agreed the other, “but size ain’t everythin’, Jud. Jist between me and you, I think Mora’s shy on guts.” The one called Jud laughed. “Don’tcha think it, Ben. Mora’s got the guts of a grizzly, so he has.” “In size,” grinned Jud. “Only in size. The back of his head’s as flat as that there wall. I ain’t never seen a flat-head yet what ain’t lacked that somethin’ which makes men fight to the last ditch.” “Sh-h-h!” cautioned Ben. “Yuh don’t need to yell it.” The two men attacked their meal. More men drifted in, growling over their meals like hungry animals. Many of them bore marks of drunken conflict. Then came a tall man, stumbling in, his arm tied in a dirty sling. He pushed a man aside and sat down heavily. Blaze and Frenchy glanced at each other and then at this newcomer. It was Mex Free, the man whom Blaze had shot in the arm near Mora’s ranch. He glowered around the room, his left hand rattling his knife on the table-edge nervously. Sud- denly he looked straight at Blaze and Frenchy. His face seemed to set in deep lines, his eyes almost disappeared under this frown- ing brows. He licked his lips and his hand, still holding the knife, brushed across his brow, as he tried to fathom the mystery. Blaze nudged Frenchy with his knee and whispered without moving his lips— ‘‘He thinks we were burned in that fire.” Free turned away, staring around the room, but his glance strayed back to Blaze” and Frenchy and without a backward glance he got to his feet and stumbled out through the door. No one paid any atten- tion to his going except Blaze and Frenchy. “Ym mak’ t’ink you’re right,” grinned Frenchy. “‘She’s t’ink she sees ghos’, ba ' gosh!” They left the restaurant and went back to the office. Blaze tore the sign off the door and made another, which read— OPEN FOR BUSINESS, and signed it FRENCHY DITTEAU, SHERIFF. A man stopped and watched Blaze tack. the sign on the door. Being unable to read and not being ashamed to acknowledge it he asked Blaze to read it aloud to him. The man made no comment, but turned and 159 went across the street into a saloon. A few minutes later a curious crowd came over to prove the rumor that Wolf Butte had a new sheriff. It seemed to amuse them, but they withheld their laughter until they went back to the saloon where they became hilarious. Blaze and Frenchy listened to their mirth, but failed to be infected with the humor of the situation. Blaze suggested that they replenish their supply of ammunition, and they went up to the general store, where the storekeeper welcomed them with a smile. “T met yuh last night,” he informed them in a whisper. ‘Name’s McQuirk, Jim McQuirk.”’ “You was with the judge?’ asked Blaze and McQuirk nodded. He furnished them with the required am- munition and refused to accept pay. ~“Tt’s the least I can do,” he stated. From under the counter he produced a Winchester repeating rifle, 44-40, which he handed to Blaze, along with several boxes of ammunition. “Take this and try it out. I dunno how she shoots. It was sent to me from Helena and I ain’t never shot it. She’s faster than the Sharp’s.” Blaze grinned. “T sabe that gun, pardner. Feller down on the north fork of the Cheyenne had one and I used it on antelope. I’m sure obliged to yuh.” “VYou’re welcome, Carlin.” Other men came in, but paid no atten- tion to Blaze and Frenchy, who. went out and back to their office. A crowd was con- gregated in front of the Square Deal saloon, and several of them laughed aloud as they watched Blaze and Frenchy go down the street. ‘“What’s our first move?” asked Blaze, after they reached the office. Frenchy examined the new gun, testing the action, peering through the sights. Finally he laid it down and began filling the empty loops on his belt. * “Blaze, de notice in de _ livery-stable she’s to be continue.” “Make ’em give up their guns?” won- dered Blaze. “Sure t’ing.” “Means that we’ve got to make good a-whoopin’.” ‘Jus’ like de sign say,” nodded Frenchy. “Ym be de sheriff or not. COmMicloooks I’m say dat no , (C@