Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 18, 1928 — page 29: what you’re looking at

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

BLUE STEEL. despite their irritating conduct in the Elite, had their hearts in the right place. Every man with a horse stood ready to join the sheriff and his deputies in trailing the lone bandit and trying to recover the money of the “ Grass Widows ” company. Blue Steel was one of the first to volun- teer. Something of the hopeless situation of the tawdry little road company had been sensed by the warm-hearted young puncher. He noted the lines of despair in the gaunt old face of Terence Burke, who, until the news of the holdup, had thought that luck had turned at last. “ Don’t worry too much thar, stranger,” said Steel, as he came out of the theater and saw Burke brooding in the lobby. “I reckon you-all will git yore money back. The sheriff an’ twelve men’s on his trail already, an’ we’re collectin’ a few other citizens front o’ the post office for another posse to ride to the east o’ the town an’ make a j’inin’ with them boys north 0’ Lariat Gorge.” “Tt’s very good of you,” said Burke. ‘“T can see that you are all good fellows at heart. This proves it. I hope you won’t mind what—that lady said from the stage, all that talk about being bums, and so on.” Blue Steel laughed. ‘“ Aw, that was all tight. I reckon we wasn’t any too gallant,” he admitted. “But jumpin’ c’yotes, I shore would hate to be the husband o’ that ol’ gal; I would shore!” Terence Burke flushed, and made haste to change the subject. “Tord! I hope you manage to catch that fellow and get back that dough for me,” he said. ‘We've had some tough breaks in this troupe.” “Don’t you worry, stranger,” called back Blue Steel, for he was already halif- way through the lobby on his way to the little main street. Burke-followed his slen- ~ der figure as Steel reached the street, bounded onto the back of his big blue- black stallion, and started to lope up Main Street to join the gathering grouped about the post office. “A very fine-looking fellow, that,” he observed to a lounger looking at one of the lurid posters pasted up in the lobby. “I 827 suppose he’s one of your prominent men here in Lariat.” The lounger ejected a stream of tobacco juice on the lobby floor, and smiled a stained smile. “Thet hombre’s a right prominent citi- zen lots o’ places,” he replied. ‘‘ He’s a hellion in some ways, Blue Steel is, an’ a darn good feller in others. He shore is.” “What did you call him?” asked Burke. “What was that name again?” *“ Blue Steel,” replied the lounger. ‘ Lor’ sakes! Ain’t y’eve’r heerd tell o’ Blue Steel? He’s one o’ the best known leather-whack- ers in these parts.” But Burke was already hustling out of the lobby and making his way up the little main street toward the post office where . several mounted men were all but ready to depart on what might be an all-night quest. *“ Blue Steel!” he yelled. ‘Say, just a minute there! I want to tell you some- thing.” Blue Steel guided his big stallion toward the sidewalk. ‘“ Me?” he asked. ‘‘ What is it thar, stranger?” “T suppose I should have recognized you from the description,” said Burke. “T’m afraid my mind was on something else—on that cash stolen from the box office, to be exact. I just learned that you are Blue Steel.” “You shore are right thar, stranger,” was the reply. “I ain’t had occasion to change my name yet. It’s a name I’m right proud of.” “Then I may have a message that will be news to you,’ Burke informed him. “Did you, by any chance, receive a tele- gram in the last day or so?” “Telegram?” Blue Steel laughed. “I ain’t long enough in one place, stranger, to get no telegrams. Why?” Terence Burke paused a moment. He seemed to be wondering whether to de- liver the full message, or not. ‘‘ Because,” he replied, “last night we played in Mesa Verde, over in Sheridan County near the Powder River. ‘« Just before the performance, the sheriff. of the town had me make an announce- ment from the stage. EMO LMIE MOO KS He said he had a- (EON