Argosy All-Story Weekly, December 4, 1926 — page 143: what you’re looking at

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

THE claimed with a _ renewed enthusiasm. ‘ Blooey!” “T heard just the other day that my son got into a jam down to Pedro’s bar. He and two muckers from the desert plagued this Gentle Ladley. I wasn’t as interested in Gentle Ladley as you men think. ‘““T was interested in them two muckers, because you yourself, Swig, described ’em to me: An hombre with hairy wrists, and a bull neck; another hombre with red- rimmed eyes, and a Adam’s apple. “T know’d they’d come back for to kill me. Ain’t nothin’ else in the world—not even a gold mine—would of brought ’em back otherwise. They wouldn’t of dast.” “Ladley killed them two men, chief,” a deputy called out. “ Is that what you been leadin’ up to?” “ Ladley did not kill ’em. He might of killed ’em. But I wanted to get ’em with my own hand. That’s the only kind of revenge that counts. I got ’em afore Lad- ley did. It was me, gents, that killed Calibers and Trommer.” For a moment the gang was stricken dumb. Swig Moran’s breath was coming in gasps from his mouth, a mouth that: was pulled all out of shape by his nervous plucking at the mustache. “ Zowie!” he breathed ecstatically. ‘‘ That sure makes a gallump- in’ good bit of hist’ry, Chief!” Big Larabee’s brows were knitted. “ What I can’t quite understand,” he said, “ is how come that hombre Trommer wrote that thar statement he wrote when he was dyin’. It put all the blame on Gentle Ladley.” He turned to the others: ‘‘ You gents remember Trommer—which was the last to be killed, he was found in a gulch near the ranch where his pard had just been ‘croaked. And they was a map which Trom- mer had wrote somethin’ on it. “And do you remember what it was he wrote?” the old Chief said. ‘‘ I remem- ber well enough. My son showed it to me, when we met in the desert while we was both trailin’ that lame calico. “*7 got what I deserved’—that’s what the hellbender wrote. I'll remember the words to my dyin’ day, so help me. They was music to my ears! And he wrote fur- DEVIL’S SADDLE. 453 thermore: knowin’ this would come!’ Ain’t that what he wrote? And he said, ‘ Tried to get him first” You remember that—any of you?” Swig nodded; so did Larabee, and many others. “We all thought he was referrin’ to Gentle Ladley,” Swig said. ‘“‘ But it’s clear enough now. He was referrin’ to you. No doubt about that.” “We got it all straightened out except- in’ one point, Chief,” one of the deputies piped up. “ And it’s kind of an important point: Just how come that lame calico which we was all trailin’ got out of your hands?” * As you men must understand, now that you know who killed Calibers and Trom- mer, it was me who rode that calico. I had my own favorite hoss besides, but when I went to the Bar-L I left my hoss in a gully near by, and then picked it up again — after I’d killed Calibers. ‘““T rode out toward the desert trailin’ Trommer.. I took the calico with me in- tendin’ to kill it, and bury it. But there weren’t time. You caught up with me. I just had time to tether the calico to some brush. Then when I went back searchin’ for it, it had got away.” The old man concluded simply: “ My son learned this; I take it he learned it from the little gal on top of the Big Mesa thar. He went after the hoss—and shot it. >? “Which we're all diritti? Harry for what he done!” Swig cried triumphantly. “Only he must of thought you committed a crime. Reckon he didn’t know it was a good, respectable feud!” — “Tt was a crime!” the Chief int back hotly. “I myself have worked for thirtv years to make feud killings a crime. I’ve made that thar law, and I’m caught in my own net—you-all kin see. And that’s why I’m givin’ myself up to you, Larabee, you who’s now sheriff of this here range—and to you men who are now his deputies!” He looked from one man to the other— from the bearded giant, Larabee, to little -Swig, to the group of faces gazing up at him. “Now, then, Larabee,” he concluded COMIC S) ‘1 been through years of hell — JOO hs wath me says Y Shy ahah Lind betbal doin Yo " TS POTN Bice Py deg oth YaTN tna ty | i is 1 1 1 i >