Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 4, 1925 — page 71: what you’re looking at

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

IN an ardent orator, who, believing his au- dience with him, finds disaffection in its ranks. “No, it ain’t no rodeo!” he bellowed. “ But we got to make an example of the swine. We got to hang him like no man was ever hung in Manford before. We ain't never had a bad man on the range that was like him. ‘’ He comes in like a half weaned calf, all quiet an’ ladylike, so vou don’t expect trouble. “ Jake Klien didn’t expect none. He sat there where vou been sittin’, an’ Cos- grove gave him the lie. When Klien an- swered back, he pulls a gun an’ shoots him. kills him without a chance an’ without no warnin’. Klien, you know, would’ve faced the finest gunman on the range if he had warnin’ an’ was armed. “ But this.skunk plays like he’s a regular girl for peacefulness, an’ takin’ Jake when he didn't have no gun, shoots him all to hell! An’ you talk of bein’ nice to him! Why, you’re standin’ on the very spot where Jake Klien fell an’ died!” “JT don't sav be nice. We're here to hang him, an’ however vou look at it, hang- in’ ain’t nice,” protested Slade. ‘ But we don’t want no circus stunts.” And while he spoke he was peculiarly conscious of the spectacle Farley and Lederer had made as they knelt over this place where he stood, * the very spot where Jake Klien fell an’ died!”’ Slade now moved his foot on that carpet, and beneath it he felt a loose board move. He wondered at the perversity of his mind which tried to connect the death of Klien with a loose board in the floor. ‘““No circus stunts,” sneered Lederer, ‘but a first class hangin’! This veller rat stands fer the city. Thunderbolt stands fer the range. It’s fittin’ Thunderbolt should finish him orf. An’ I want to sav that the way that hawse’ll throw this pil- grim will be a pretty sight to see. She'll throw him to the end of his rope!” “She won’t throw him at all!” cried wade. ‘“‘ We ain’t goin’ to use her!” ‘An’ I say we are!” “Put it up to the committee!” boomed Webb. ‘ Boys, vou heard ’em. Chiff savs THE EVENT OF DEATH. 861 we use Thunderbolt: Slade says no. Who wins?” The front door flew open with a crash and a man stood on the threshold. He had a gun on either hip, and a hand on the butt of either gun. ‘* Slade wins!” cried the man in the door- way. “And Slade loses, too. You're not going to use Thunderbolt, and you’re not going to use Slade. In short, the party’s off. I’m Cosgrove, of Manford!”’ CHAPTER XVII. SPOILING THE PARTY. OSGROVE, OF MANFORD! And he stood in the doorway with the au- thority of an avenging deity glowing in the blueness of his eyes. Cosgrove, of Manford! And they had been forming in their minds the feeble, de- generate figure of Cosgrove as Lederer had painted him; Cosgrove of the alley ways, Cosgrove of the stockyards, Cosgrove of the dives and gutters and dens of a teeming city. They had resolved to hang him because of what he was, and they were convinced they knew all about him. They were con- vinced that the weak, unmanly figure of the effete cities, if he had known of their meeting would have fled like a frightened coyote. And in the face of that conviction here was Cosgrove, himself, not weak, not un- many, not of the cities, but Cosgrove, of Manford, confronting them with indomit- able courage in his eyes; alone in the face of their guns, dauntless in the knowledge of their purpose. He had not even drawn the revolvers that hung at his sides. He had not even demanded that thev throw their hands aloft. ‘I’m Cosgrove, of Manford!” that was all he said; and thev stared back at him, dominated by the pic- ture he presented, by the myraid conjec- tures which rushed into their minds. Lederer, standing beside the doorway in which Cosgrove stood, made some move- ment. He did not reach for his gun, for better than any other man in the room he knew what lightning response he would Conn GIOok