Argosy All-Story Weekly, December 4, 1926 — page 49: what you’re looking at

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

EXCITEMENT. TRAIL. self, ‘‘ and ‘my mouth shut most of the ‘time. They’s been a lot of Crossed Ar- rows steers run over the line, and somehow, somewhere, a chap’s bound to hit into trace of ’em. Dogies can’t pop off into nothing, like a soap bubble when it busts. That ain’t a tough line to puzzle out. But about Rosita—” Rusty’s musings broke off, for there, cer- tainly, was a blind trail. Yet reason told him that Don Eugenio’s party could not have come from very far within the heart of Mexico; the fiesta was too local in na- ture to attract visitors of that sort any very great distance. Though of course Rosita had said something about her father com- ing on business. “Vl cover the country with a fine- toothed comb,” Rusty promised himself. “ Dad had the right idea. JI was sure a poor weak sister to get discouraged so soon. Rosita’s somewhere in Northern Mexico. All I got to do is find her.” Some miles south of the border he came upon a part of the Crossed Arrows posse, dejectedly plodding along on jaded ponies. Walt Dunlop, the foreman, was in com- mand. “ Howdy, Rusty!” was the latter’s as- tonished greeting. “ Howdy!” To which Rusty added the innocent query: “ Get your men?” “Hell, no!” the foreman exploded dis- gustedly. “Lost all trace of ’em in the lava beds. We ran out of water and had one hell of a time. But we ain’t through yet.” ‘You sure they come this way?” Rusty asked, interested. “ YVeah. We found a Crossed Arrows steer—a cripple, looks like—that they had to shoot. The buzzards located him for us, but they hadn’t gone so far with the re- mains that we couldn’t read the brand. “T sent the rest of the boys around west of the lava beds. We’re planning on meet- ing ’em day after to-morrow. But what you doing down here, Rusty?” “ A little scouting on my own. I blew in at the ranch a couple days aiter you left. You’re working the game from the wrong slant, Walt. One man’s got a sight better chance of learning something than — 3509 a whole flock of riders. Any mestizo you run into can’t help but be wise to what you guys are combing the country for. Then the word’s passed around, and your birds flutter off.” : ““Mebby so,” Dunlop growled, ‘“ but don’t forget that a solitary rider has also a damned good chance of never cashing in on the information he may pick up. I’m under orders from your dad to play the hand safe. He don’t want any more of his wranglers killed.” ‘All right,” was Rusty’s indifferent re- sponse. Then, “‘ Any of you fellows ever hear of a man that calls himself Don Eu- genio Something-or-Other? He’s got a hacienda within a hundred-or hundred and fifty miles of the line.” This last was largely conjecture, but Rusty saw no harm in passing it on as an actual fact. “Not me,” Dunlop responded. Nor could any of the riders offer any suggestion of value. ‘What you want this fellow for?” the foreman demanded. ‘““ Oh, personal ‘reasons,” Rusty answered vaguely. ‘‘ Well, adios, you guys. I’m riding.” ‘Better trail along with us,” the fore- man advised. ‘“‘ Can’t afford to,” Rusty grunted briefly. “You can’t afford not to,” was Dunlop’s grim comment. “ But just as you say. Keep your eyes peeled, Rusty.” “Thanks, I will,” Rusty rejoined dryly. And thereupon he and the Crossed Arrows riders parted company. During the days which followed Rusty traveled through a» wide expanse of terri- tory, making a point of visiting the various small settlements sparsely scattered here and there. In such places he frequented nondescript barrooms, where mescal pulpue and other fiery intoxicants were on tap for the thirsty. Rusty kept his ears ever finely attuned to catch stray bits of conversation, relying on the tongue-loosening properties of liquor to bring him information regarding cattle- rustling activities. | Often he feigned a drunken stupor, -masking keen alertness under pretense of a mind befuddled by raw whisky, thus EOPMIG OO KS