Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 119: what you’re looking at

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

THE WAY OF away. Nothin’ happened to you. showed yellow. “Then you walked right over into Bal- lantine’s yard an’ defied him. Nothin’ hap- pened to you. Then you knocked hell out of that Kensington fellow—an’ shot him. Nothin’ happened to you. You blowed up Kelly’s place, an’ nothin’ happened to you. An’ them boys was ragin’ mad. Then you shot old Ballantine—an’ nothin’—” ‘“‘ Calamity,” said Cameron, “ how do you know my bullet hit Ballantine?” ‘““T was settin’ on one of the flat cars when you run the engine up to where Bal- lantine was standin’. When you stopped the engine I got off an’ went around, out of range. JI seen your bullet knock dust off of old Ballantine’s shirt. It hit him kerplunk in the shoulder.” ‘“Have you told anybody what you saw?” asked Cameron. “Not yet. I’ve been a waitin’.” ‘Calamity, if you tell anybody what you have been telling me, you'll have more trouble than you have had all the days of your life!” “H-m!” Calamity muttered. “ Well, mebbe. But don’t you go to threatenin’ me, Mr. Cameron.” Calamity’s voice had changed. ‘There was some vindictiveness in it now, and a slight, strained eagerness. — “Don’t go to doin’ any threatenin’, Mr. Cameron,” he repeated. ‘“‘ It seems to me Strong that you’ve been escapin’ trouble pretty easy. It ain’t in no ways natural that a man could keep on escapin’ trouble that way right along, an’ I’ve took a notion to be right on hand this time to see how you do it?” “What do you mean, Calamity?” Cameron walked toward Calamity, to seek an explanation to the other’s cryptic remark. But Calamity retreated before him—down the slope of the hill until he stood on a little level amid some huge rocks. There he halted and laughed lowly. ‘“Tve been a heap curious about you an’ trouble, Mr. Cameron,” he said. “ An’ I’ve brought you here a-purpose, to see how you get out of havin’ trouble. Seems you’ve sort of forgot that this is the sev- THE BUFFALO. 109 enth day, ain’t you—the time Joe Gibson give you to leave town?” Calamity laughed again, and dodged be- hind a big bowlder. For a moment Cameron stood, rigid, alert. It came to him that this was indeed the day. He had forgotten it; had forgotten Gibson’s threat. A sinister silence now seemed to envelop him. He felt the presence of an unseen menace, and he moved slowly down the slope of the hill, intent upon getting back to the office and White Star. But he had just reached the level when he heard a sound in the darkness; dimly dis- cerned the forms of a dozen men near him, surrounding him. His right hand dropped toward the holster at his hip. But he did not draw the weapon. For directly behind him he heard a voice— Gibson’s. “Easy, Cameron,” he said coldly. “There’s too many of us for that kind of work! if you pull you'll be plumb through x99) for the evenin’! CHAPTER XXIV. THE WHIZZER. ‘,AMERON detected the serious, warn- C ing quality in Gibson’s voice. He had speculated much over Gibson, and he felt that the man was not to be trifled with. And yet Cameron’s act in reaching for his automatic was not the result of a conviction that he could successfully fight the dozen or so men who stood in a constantly nar- rowing circle about him; the movement of his hand toward the gun had been involun- tary, an instinct of self-preservation. As Gibson spoke, Cameron folded his arms over his chest. “It seems there is no room for argu- ment, Gibson,” he agreed. ‘I should have remembered what you said to me about to-day. But I had forgotten.” “Sorry to trouble you, Cameron,” said Gibson. “ If you’d have jogged your mem- ory a little this wouldn’t have happened.” “It wouldn’t have made any difference, Gibson. I never had any intention of obey- CoOmmicoookxs (S@