Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 108: what you’re looking at

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

By JAMES B. HENDRYX Author of “ Snowdrift,’’ ‘‘ Prairie Flowers,’’ etc. / CHAPTER XIX (continued ). CHRISTMAS AT NUMBER EIGHT. HE word “ gasoline ” passed swiftly | from lip to lip as the men crowded through the doorway. In the di- rection of the stables the clearing was al- ready alight with flames. Force of habit carried them halfway across the clearing in their first rush from the bunk house. Then the portent of the word “ gasoline ” seemed suddenly to percolate their intelli- gence. ‘The rush wavered as men halted and turned back. «The hull camp’s a goner!” - “When that car lets go, shell scatter fire a half a mile!” “ We'll be covered with blazin’ gasoline an’ burnt to a cinder!” | The rush toward the flaming hay shed Stopped. In every direction men were scat- tering for the edges of the clearing. A few wavered uncertainly, to stare in fascination at the wind fanned flames that were whirl- ing and leaping about the box car. Leonard, Sim Coughlan, and old Pap Hickman ran at the heels of big Tim Neely. At the little knot of wavering men the big boss paused. “Come on, boys!” he cried... ‘ There’s enough of us to shove that car to hell!” ““An’ git blow’d to hell doin’ it!” re- torted Sam King. “It would be your chanst to go in good company!” snapped Neely. _ ‘‘ Come on, boys! There’s some of us has got red guts instead of rotgut inside of us! We ain’t afraid of a little fire!” This story began in the Argosy-Allstory Weekly for July 14. 578 it Eomichboo cS (©) = :