Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

CHANNING COMES THROUGH. place him. Last night I couldn’t sleep, tryin’ to get my mind to workin’. I could not seem to place him until I seen him inspectin’ that gun in his waistband, while you was in the stable. Then it come to me. I seen him down a man in Yuma with that trick. It’s him, crooked legs an all. It’s Yuma Slim. I reckon he’s the orniest, snakiest gun slinger in the country. He’s through now. I reckon I’d have let him live if he hadn’t showed so venomous in tryin’ to drag out that other gun.” Channing and Vallon stood, looking down at the drifter. He had been mortally wounded, for his face already had the gray pallor of death. But he was fully conscious and he raised his head and looked at Chan- ning. ‘“T reckon I’d have got you,” he said. Channing nodded. He knew the drifter had had him beaten. “ But I reckon it wasn’t any frame-up, either. Was it?” asked the drifter. Channing’s negative brought a shadowy smile to his face. “Just one of them damned things where a third man interferes an’ spoils it,” he went on. He stared upward at Channing for an instant, studying his face. Then the shadowy smile came again. “You’re white, Channing,” he said. “I am putting you wise. There’s a guy named Green over in Laskar. He’s a mighty mean man. He’s aimin’ to salivate you. «If I got you I was to get two hundred.” The drifter grinned, his chin sagged to his chest, and his voice became jerky, muffled. -“T reckon somebody else will try to col- lect that two hundred,” he said. “ For Green aims to—to—”’ Channing knelt beside the drifter, then slowly got to his feet, shaking his head. - CHAPTER VI. WHILE WARREN SLEPT. HANNING and Vallon stood, looking & down at the drifter. “So you knew him?” said Channing. “In Yuma, more than twenty years ago,” answered Vallon. “‘ He was younger then, an’ I think he hadn’t lost them two ZA 657 teeth. An’ he wasn’t in no ways scrawny, like he is now. But his legs was as crooked. But I reckon mebbe I wouldn’t have knowed him if he hadn’t gone after his gun the way he did—slidin’ an’ slippery, like a side-winder. When I seen his arms movin’ that way I remembered that was the way they had moved when he killed that Yuma man.” “Ym obliged to you,” said Channing. “He had me faded.” ‘““Shucks, you’d have got him,” stated Vallon. “It would have been mighty close, an’ mebbe you’d have got burned, but you’d have got him.” “Tf you thought so, why did you throw down on him with your rifle, Vallon?”’ Vallon blushed. “ He wasn’t playin’ fair, I reckon. No man’s got a right to hide a gun on him that way.” A sound came from behind the men. Both turned, to see Eve and Betty standing near. Betty’s two hands were pressed against her cheeks as though ready to stifle a scream that threatened to come; her eyes were wide with horror as she stared at the motionless and huddled form of the drifter; she was shaking all over. Eve’s face was white, her slight figure was rigid, and her hands, hanging at her sides, were clenched tightly. But though Channing observed that her agita- tion equaled Betty’s, she had retained her self-possession. Her eyes were burming with passionate rebuke, however, as she looked from Channing to Vallon as though searching in them for signs of guilt. It was Vallon who could not sustain her gaze, and it was to Vallon that she spoke, her voice cold but quavering. “Vallon,” she charged, “ you killed that man!” “JT reckon he’s dead, ma’am.” “Why did you kill him? Why? Won’t you men ever learn that there are other ways of settling differences? Vallon,” she went on reproachfully, “ you are getting too old to lose your temper like this. You have been here long enough to know that I don’t like violence. And, Vallon, I won’t have it! I tell you plainly that this must end!” oO Comicdooks (©)