Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 4, 1925 — page 74: what you’re looking at

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

$64 ley in the back! ‘You set out to hang him, an’ you got yeller at the sound of his voice!” ‘Or his gun!’”? Webb sang out. ‘It was the sound of his gun that made you talk down, Cliff!” Lederer turned purple with rage. “His gun! You talk like a fool! Didn’t I tell vou he was a gunman! Hell! He comes from a place where they play with guns like a pack of club swingers in a cir- cus! Read about ’em in the city papers. Gunmen fed on dope! But if you want to keep this country clean for a man to live in you'll hang such curs when they come out of their holes in the slums! We ain’t just gunmen out here. We're riders an’ punchers. Give him some work like that to do an’ you'll see how much of a man he is! ‘Seems to me—”’ It was Slade’s voice, and it was filled with doubt. But another cut him short. “Cliff's right. Look at them clothes! He don’t belong in our country!” And Cosgrove, seeing the situation in the balance again, took the matter char- acteristically in hand. ‘‘ Gaines,” he cried. “Take Miss Farley out to your car. I’m riding home in the saddle!”’ Lederer swore vividly. ‘“You ride home in a pine box!” he bel- lowed. ‘ Fer the love o’ God, men, hold on to him. Don’t let that rattler go!” He dashed forward as he spoke, for Cos- grove was already past the door, and Led- erer followed him through the kitchen with the pressure of several men upon him. Some, led by Webb, were determined Cosgrove should go free; but there were others who sided with Lederer. They struggled in the doorway which led to the porch. Encouraging or dissuading him, they held Lederer back. They pressed about him, bullied him, threatened him, en- deavored to persuade him. But he fought like a madman to follow Cosgrove. Then suddenly Slade, who stood before him, gave way. ‘Let him go,” he said. “‘ He can’t hurt Cosgrove, and if Cosgrove will shoot an un- armed man now is Cliff’s time to prove it!” Ignoring this remark Lederer plunged ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. through the doorway. Outside in a fair moonlight, Hazel and Gaines stood beside the little car which was some distance from the house. They stood there with their eyes upon Cosgrove, who, having approached a string of horses which stood ready saddled for the business which was to have occupied the night, now led forth a handsome sorrel mare. “Not that one!” cried Hazel with a nervous laugh. ‘‘ Don’t take her! She’s bad.” Cosgrove grinned. ‘ That’s the horse I’m riding home,” he said. And Lederer, plunging forth from the house stopped short to glare at the scene in open-mouthed surprise until with a fierce satisfaction he realized its meaning. ‘Good Lord!” he cried aloud. ‘“ He’s goin’ to ride Thunderbolt! She’ll kill him!” Slade ran forth from the steps, passing Lederer, just as Cosgrove, seizing a cheek Strap and the pommel, vaulted into the saddle. ‘Let be!” yelled Slade; and then he flung himself back as the red mare plunged down upon him. It was as well he did so. Thunderbolt was known from Pendleton to Cheyenne and from Laredo to Butte, a rodeo horse, and only twice in her life had any man succeeded in riding her. Now, with Cos- grove in the saddle, she set forth to prove that there would never be a third one. And she was the jug-headed, reckless kind, was Thunderbolt. If her rider didn’t tumble gracefully, she was all ready to hang him on the corral fence, impaled on the broken timbers, crushed beneath Thun- derbolt’s own wicked weight, or torn asun- der within their wracked and jolted bodies, victims of internal hemorrhage. Lederer, knowing this, was satisfied. Hazel, Gaines and the few others who de- sired Cosgrove no harm, were horrified. They hoped for the best, which was that Cosgrove would fall at the first violent ef- fort of the animal to displace him. But Cosgrove did not fall. The wild animal, with its gleaming mus- cular body, flashed and twisted in weird contortions that in the moonlight appeared 4A (CO) MICLOOOL