Adventure, January 20, 1922 — page 167: what you’re looking at

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

Powder Law “Somebody’ she’s try to mak’ fool from me,” grinned Frenchy. ‘‘Nobody come to de stable now. I’m t’ink somebody’s tell about me—Frenchy Ditteau. Ho, ho, ho! One feller she’s git mad for me, Blaze, and she’s talk bad. I’m tie her up and teach her de sof’ language. Frenchy Ditteau she’s hedg-u-cate, ba gosh!’ Blaze told him of Free’s attempt to kill him and Frenchy listened open-mouthed to Blaze’s tale of Chuck Sales’ assistance. “T’m hear from him,” nodded Frenchy. “De stableman she’s talk about Sales. I’m t’ink dis Sales be sonn of a gonn for fight.” Blaze told him of the Wheeler family, and at the finish of the tale, Frenchy’s whiskers quivered with anger. “De leetle kid, Blaze? His papa drown wit’ grandstone? De man what do dis mus’ be find. Firs’ de cripple ol’ man killed, den de hones’ papa. Frenchy Ditteau she’s on war-path, ba gosh!” : A group of horsemen rode past the office and swung over to the hitch-rack near the Square Deal Saloon. Riding in the lead was Black Mora, his ape-like shoulders hunched, looking neither to the right nor left. They tied their horses and clattered into the saloon. Blaze stood in the doorway watching them goin. Several men came out of the Eureka, among them being Chuck Sales. One of the men spoke to Sales, who nodded and started for the Square Deal. Blaze turned to Frenchy. “Black Mora and his men just went into the Square Deal, Frenchy. Chuck Sales is headed for there, too.” “Ba gosh,” chuckled Frenchy, ‘I’m mak’ tink de grizzly git fed quick now. We go dere, Blaze.” They crossed the street and went in be- hind Sales. The men who had been with Sales went in behind them. Black Mora was leaning on the bar, a glass of liquor in his hand, listening to a man who was telling what Mrs. Wheeler had told Delaney. It was one of the two men who had followed her into the store. The man was finishing his story and im- parted the information that Delaney was going to take care of the woman and little girl, Black Mora shrugged his shoulders. “Why do you tell me these things?” he asked sourly and threw the glass of strong liquor full in the man’s face. The man 165 staggered back, his arm across his face, as if warding off a blow. “Wimmin and kids don’t interest me none!” growled Mora. ‘‘What do I care a about 4 Mora turned his head and looked full at Sales. The crowd drew away, expecting serious trouble. This was the first time that Sales and Mora had faced each other, and every one knew that there would be blood spilt when they met. Sales was smaller than Mora, yet Sales was by no manner of means a small man, compared with the other men in the saloon. Mora’s face was half-smiling insolently as he looked at Sales, but Sales’ crooked face did not lose its indifferent expres- sion. Then Sales spat deliberately on Mora’s boots. It was an unforgivable insult, yet Mora did not move. The smile faded from his lips and his eyes drew down to mere slits. Mora knew that Sales was a killer— knew that to reach for a gun would be sui- cide. His-eyes shifted down for a fraction of a second. Sales was smiling now, his tobacco-satined teeth showing through his upcurled lips. “T killed Mex Free, your best man,” said Sales softly, ominously. “He kicked like a chicken with its head cutoff.” Stil Mora did not move. His eyes shifted for an instant, as if seeking a chance to get out of this encounter. Then Sales laughed. “ve got yuh, Mora. I could kill yuh before yuh could move. My men are be- hind your men, Mora, and they can’t help yuh none. You need help, Black Mora. Want to run the country, eh? You big bully! You’re scared of death right now, but I’m not goin’ to,kill yuh—yet. You’re bigger than I am, Mora, but I’m the better man. Take off your gun and fight like a man, you lousy, mud-colored coyotel’’ It was unthinkable. Black Mora swayed away from the bar, licking his lips. His face broke into a wolfish grin. Mora had fought with his hands and knew something of his own strength; knew that he could crush an ordinary man, as a grizzly crushes a sheep. A buzz of wonderment from the crowd. Was Sales crazy? Frenchy stepped in front of Mora and held out his left hand. “T’m tak’ de gun,” he announced. “I’m collect now.”’ Gomiicbook (C@