Argosy All-Story Weekly, December 4, 1926 — page 144: what you’re looking at

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

454 simply, ‘I’m standin’ before you as a judge. I’ve confessed. Are you satisfied?” “He better be,” little Swig mumbled be- hind his mustache, “or else I'll slug the overgrown old wari!” But there was no occasion to slug the giant Larabee now. He was satisfied. The mask of. assumed authority, of fury at in- jured dignity, of suspicion—that mask was gone from his face, leaving the big, grizzled, . honest, homely face of an Arizona cattle- king. He stroked his beard, the fingers coming down and pausing in the knot where the hair was tied underneath his massive jaw. He had been very important for a short span of time. He had been sheriff of the range for a few hours. In that duration of office he had made a rather blundering attempt to hang a man, and he was now thanking God that he had blundered. But before he was through with this job of sheriff he proposed to ac- complish one act. And he would accomplish it without blundering. It was an act which he knew would be backed up by every cowboy or bronc-twister on that range. “T want to announce afore I give up my job as sheriff,” he said, “ which same I’ve held for a day—instead of thirty years like the real Chief here—I say I want to announce to you-all that I’ve heard the con- fession of Phineas Morrel, and considered same—and you men have heard same. , “This here is the identical kind of trial, conducted at the moment that the prisoner is in our possession same as all trials have been conducted by the Chief for years past. You gents who may be considered my dep- uties kin back me up in this, same as if you was a jury. Just us few here are enough. ‘““We’ve heard the evidence. And I hereby pronounce judgment, which is that Phineas Morrel killed them two desert rats for motives that was justifiable. No mat- ter if he thinks it was an old-time feud. “The hellbenders deserved pluggin’, ex- pected it, came back for to prevent it by killin’ the Chief—and got dumped good and clean. That thar’s a simple story, the moral of which is that Phineas Morrel is Not Guilty.” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. The crowd of deputies concurred with this judgment, giving vent to enthusiastic oaths. Little Swig Moran waved his hat in the air, and whooped. The whole posse knew perfectly well that that little ceremony was enough to free the old Chief beyond any further cavil. For that offense, every one was perfectly assured, he could never again be put in jeopardy. ‘And I consider that my last duty as sheriff of Neutral Saddle,” Larabee said as he unfastened the star from his bearskin vest, and pinned it on the breast of the old Chief. This act was acclaimed by a great shout. There was, in fact, no dissenting voice in that company, except, perhaps, the voice of the breed sheepherder mumbling to him- self. ‘Now they will all get drunk, and there will not be a bottle of cuevo left in my whole house! Such is this great thing they call Justice!” 8 ee CHAPTER XXVIII. THIRST. UT on the burning alkaline plain that stretches from the Big Mesas to the border, two riders were pressing on. Their mounts, trotting laboriously in the soft silt, churned up a cloud of dust so thick and white that it gave the horses the appearance of wading stirrup-high in steam. It took sturdy broncs to stand a mist like that, parching their mouths, nostrils, throats. It took sturdier men. A man starting out on that desert was beaten before he started unless his nerve was bolstered up with the promise of an unlimited water-supply. Concha saw the effect this ordeal was having on her captor. He was no longer mild or gentle; his eyes were no longer the innocuous blue of a child’s for which he was so famous. They were the eyes of a rattler who has been half crushed. When he spoke to the girl he snarled, and his thickened tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. The blue of his eyes turned gray, rimmed with a raw, burning red. CORMICLOOOKS (E@)