Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 20: what you’re looking at

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

“Seems like I heard of it before. 654 able man I’d shore bust him a few for what he said about my legs. I shore would!” Vallon made no comment on this. He wasn’t sure that the drifter was a peaceable man. Vallon’s brows were still thoughtful- ly wrinkled. He hadn’t slept much during the night. He had kept thinking of the drifter. Somewhere, some time, he had seen those legs and the drifter’s face. But it seemed to him that his memory was play- ing tricks with him. It was as though the drifter was in a haze. If he should come nearer, out of the haze, Vallon would be able to identify him, the name that was mute on the tip of his tongue would be spoken. As often as he could during the day, Val- lon watched the drifter. The drifter hadn’t gone on his way after breakfast. He had plumped himself down on a bench outside the bunk house, had drawn an old pipe from a pocket. “ Reckon I'll hang out here a day or so,” he said to Channing, who was standing in the bunk house door watching Eve, who stood on the rear porch of the ranch house. “You ain’t doin’ no objectin’?” “Go when you're ready,’ answered Channing. “T’m tired, sorta,” said the drifter. ‘““Been movin’ around consid’able. This here’s the Circle B, eh?” 46 Yes,” “ Saw yore brand back a ways, yest’idy. Feller named Bassett runs it, don’t he?” Channing nodded. “ Whar’s he now?” “ Dead.” Sho! Yu’ don’t say!” Channing was still watching Eve. He saw the Eastern doctor standing near her, talking to her. He saw a smile on Eve's lips. Therefore Channing gathered that the doctor was telling her some news which pleased her. “ What did Bassett die of?” questioned the drifter. Channing tapped the gun in his right holster. . “ Meanin’ you killed him?” There was no change in the drifter’s voice as he asked the question. Ail aleng ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. it had been high-pitched, garrulous. It hadn’t altered a shade. Channing nodded his head a quarter of an inch. He had observed that the Eastern. doctor had bowed to Eve, and Channing was proud of her. “So you downed Bassett, eh?” said the drifter. He was smoking his pipe and de- liberately blowing long wisps of smoke up- ward and outward and watching the smoke trail off and disintegrate. And now Eve and the doctor had vanished from the — porch, and Channing folded his arms over his chest and looked down at the drifter. Channing was standing, the drifter was Sitting. ““ Shucks,” drawled he drifter; “you must be a wolf with a gun. I’ve heard that Bassett wasn’t no slouch when it come to gittin’ his gun workin’. Yes, you shore must be a wolf—if you downed Bassett fair.” “Have you got any idea that I didn’t down him fair?” asked Channing slowly. “‘ Shucks,” said the other, seeming to be- come aware of the coldness of Channing’s voice. “I ain’t meanin’ to nag you none. Likely it was fair. If you say it was that ought to settle it. If yore Rip Channing I ain’t none surprised that Bassett got his’n. Used to be right slick with a gun yoreself, didn’t you?” 3 “‘ Stranger,” said Channing, “if Bassett had had your mouth he’d have talked him- — self to death.” | The drifter gave no sign that he had heard. To all appearances he was undis- turbed by the sharp rebuke. He did not look at Channing; he continued to smoke his pipe and to watch the smoke float out- ward and upward. ? Channing waited a little. Then he walked past the drifter and went to the stable. The drifter sat and smoked, calmly, im- perturbably. He betrayed no visible sign of mental agitation. But his vacuous eyes were now swimming with passion. He sat, still smoking his pipe. When the pipe spluttered in depletion he got up, walked to the corral fence, leaned against the top rail and seemed to stare over the fence at the horses. Sitting on the edge of a bunk in the bunk oO Comicbooks; com