Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 121: what you’re looking at

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

THE LAUGHING RIDER. down upon the ardent tracker; and he blazed away joyfully over the quarry’s head. White as death, Menzies turned in the saddle to see Nemesis ride him down, and he shrunk to the leather as the bullets whis- tled over him. He swore despairingly, and threw his hands aloft. His pony reared as the reins | slapped loose upon her neck, and, conceiv- ing the hour of liberty to have come, dug her hoofs into the earth and flew. Men- zies would have grabbed the reins again, but Billy blazed away above him. “Hold ’em up!” shrieked Billy; and he laughed as he took up the chase. Up the trail rode Menzies, borne by his agitated pony directly toward the country he would have avoided. Swiftly behind him rode Billy, gleefully intent upon keep- ing the cattle rustler’s hands off his reins, and himself just far enough behind the fleeing bronco to cover its rider without in- terfering with its speed. “Yip, yip, yip!” yelled Billy. “ Ride her, Sam! Ride her like you was stickin’ plaster!” The little bronco flew, stretching herself, and flinging her head high. “Whoa!” shouted Menzies. ‘ Come down, you little fool! Come down!” “Keep ’em up, Sam! Hold ’em high!” bawled Billy from behind. “ Stop her! Stop the dam’ little dobie!” yelled Menzies. “Now, you stop!” Billy gleefully ad- dressed the flying pony. With the sounds of the pursuing Concho, Menzies’s frantic mount doubled her ef- forts. Had she been fleeing from an equine devil she could not have been more intent upon making distance, and her rider most unhappy. And Concho kept pace behind. Billy did more in this ride than merely keep his place and Menzies’s hands aloft. He skillfully herded the fleeing pony along the way he desired her to go; and that way brought them nearer and nearer to the edge of the wild country; nearer and near- er to civilization; nearer and nearer to the police post at Sleepy River. In a moment of silent racing, Billy slipped four fresh cartridges into his gun. 911 “Up! Up! Keep ’em up!” he yelled at the demoralized Menzies, as the wild ride surged on. “ You should enter that pony at the rodeo. She’s fairst!” ‘Come down!’’ bawled Menzies. “Up! Keep ’em up!” yelled Billy, and he blazed away to emphasize his words. The racing broncho at that moment de- cided that the ride had been going too far in one direction. She turned her wicked little head to the left and rolled one eye to find her pursuer’s place. Then definite- ly, and with swift decision, she whisked about to go the other way. Menzies, taken unawares, clutched fran- tically at his saddle horn, missed it, and sailed- into the air. He turned twice in the open spaces and landed firmly upon his head. He thereupon lost interest in the conclusion of these mad events. Billy, assured with a glance that Men- zles was going to remain unconscious for yet a little while, swung Concho about with the same upstanding whirl as the broncho had made, and was off in an earnest pursuit. The little broncho was swift, after the man- ner of her kind, which permitted short spurts and interminable loping; but Concho could boast the blood of thoroughbreds, and, when the occasion demanded it, she could outrun many a swifter pony. So the chase was short, and Billy brought the pony back, fighting at the bridle end. He vigorously dispensed first aid to the fallen rustler. ‘“ What the hell?” asked Menzies, com- ing to. ‘You got a load of hay on the brain,” explained Billy. ‘“ What’s these?” further requested Men- zies, He referred to lashed strands of rope which firmly bound his hands to his sides. “Them?” said Billy. “I just put them on in case you was delirious.” Menzies extensively revised the vocabu- lary of a conservative man. | “ That’s all right,” Billy consoled him. “ You'll be a lot better in the morning.”’ Menzies abruptly stopped swearing. “ What morning?” he bawled. “It’s yore head,” explained Billy. “ You lit on yore head.” “TI don’t want to know where [ hit,” said CommicooOokS. CoN)