Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

LORETTA ‘““ Happened?” the chief cried. ‘“ The train’s stopped—that’s what’s happened!” ‘“‘ They seen us then, chief, we better beat. it!” ‘“ Beat it? I guess damn well not, you yellow-livered skunks! The train’s stopped. Well and good! That’s all as we wanted anyways. Come on. Follow me! Crawl through the brush, stay under cover. Get to your nags. Then stay out’n the glare of that headlight!” “The beans is spilled, chief!” one of the outlaws objected desperately. ‘‘ How come they stopped that train afore they hit the twisted rail?” ‘¢ Some one has double-crossed us, chief. That thar train’s stopped just in time! Some one’s blowed the gaff!”’ The chief had already crawled into the arroyo and mounted his horse. He drove out of the pitch blackness, his form emerg- ing at each step of his mount into the glare of the light. ‘“‘ Somethin’ else stopped it!” he cried with an oath. ‘‘ Are you snivelin’ cowards comin’ or not? No more palaverin’. We’ve got to ride fast!” “JT ain’t ridin’ fast nowheres!” one of his henchmen protested. “It’s a trap— that’s all! If we try to board ’em, we'll find out what kind of a trap it is! Not for me! I’m out, here and now!” Mounting his horse this speaker went clattering off into the darkness of the arroyo. The leader hurled his curses after the de- serter. Here was a good job planned—and at considerable expense of time, of trailing, of plotting, of waiting. Then at the mo- ment of victory some measly little trick of circumstance was trying to defeat his whole game. “ All right!” he said turning to his two other henchmen who had also mounted. We'll do without Swink—the little coyote. Don’t need him. But I’ll show him what it means to back down at the wrong minute. 1’ll mash every bone in his carcass! Come -on, men. We three can turn the job. That train’s stalled. Somethin’s happened which ain’t nothin’ to do with us.” He spurred his horse. ‘“ Come on, damn you—what’re you waitin’ for?” : “The sun’ll be up afore we git thar, BRODELL. 381 chief!” one of them begged miserably. “Call it off. We ain’t hankerin’ for to horse right into a trap!”’ The sky had turned red. The chief, facing the glare of that headlight, and see- ing the brilliant dome beyond, felt suddenly frustrated by the many cross shadows. His men saw his indecision, and without any further parley, stuck their heels into their mounts and fled in great haste down the black arroyo. The chief saw clearly enough that the tide of his good fortune was ebbing fast. His men had forsaken him. Of course, there was still a chance that he could hold up the train alone. But the light was com- ing. The advantage of boarding a train the moment that it had been derailed, when the crew and passengers were stunned— this advantage was now denied him. Then, too, there was the sun rolling up between those two granite table mountains. Pasqual, the outlaw, shrugged his shoul- ders and lit a cigarette. He emerged to the desert floor, standing there a giant horse- man in the conflicting rays of dawn and the engine headlight. His men, galloping far off down the narrow trail of the arroyo glanced back to see just what their forsaken master was going to do. They saw him do a very peculiar thing. Firm in the faith that the stalling of that train had nothing to do with his own plot to wreck it, Pasqual rode his horse up to the ties, and then followed a trail parallel to the tracks directly toward the waning glare of the headlight. It was impossible to conceive that a trap had been laid. The three wretched rene- gades who were his henchmen were afraid of their own shadows. Whenever they set about to commit a raid, they imagined that the whole county and State must read their thoughts and know about it. Not so with Pasqual. The danger to him was nothing. His identity was not yet known. It was even customary for him to go up to the sheriff at Mesquite and talk to him face to face after murdering some desert mucker. As for the present situation, he was consumed with curiosity. He decided that at all costs he was going to find out just what sort of a practical joke mMIGIOOKS (S@) (S@) %