Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 7, 1928 — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

20) Nevertheless, where there’s a will, there’s a way. The little beast could go, and that was the main thing de- sired, Heading him up the track, and urg- ing him into a gallop, Norman streaked away, his long legs hunched up from the stirrups almost to his ears, his bag, fastened around his waist, bumpety- bumping on the saddle behind him. Hope revived once more in his breast. He had twenty minutes still left until noon, and the pony was not only fast but surefooted. Over the un- even ties it sprinted with never a stum- ble, and clawed across a couple of short trestles like a cat. Then the rails curved around to the side of the highway, and prospects looked still brighter. On the road’s smoother surface even speedier time could be made. As Norman debouched to it, he saw a sign post which in- formed him that Rio Rita was only four miles away. Behind him he could hear the roar of a motor car which was evidently com- ing toward him at a terrific pace. Mere- ly a faint hum on the air as he turned into the highway, its noise was now a steadily rising crescendo of ear-split- ting sound, for the muffler was wide open. “Gosh! But these Western people do certainly drive,” thought Norman, discarding a half-formed notion of hailing the motorist and asking for a lift the rest of the way to town. Use- less. Even if the driver comprehended and acceded to his request, that racing car would be a mile down the road be- fore it could be stopped. And then it struck him that the automobile was slowing down. Per- haps, after all, he could get aboard it, and arrive at the courthouse in more dignified fashion than on his absurd little mount. He turned his head to judge of the prospects. Fatal inadvertence! The pony which had carried him so gallantly up to this time, either sensing his purpose and re- ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. senting such ingratitude, or else pos- sessed by a demon perversity, suddenly gave a couple of crow-hops, spread- eagled, and landed Norman flat on his back in the middle of the roadway. Then, with a snort of disdain, the malicious, particolored little brute turned tail and galloped off home- ward. The tumble from its back wasn’t far enough to do any great harm; but as Norman sat up, shaken and disheveled, he almost wished he had broken his neck. For the car which had been speeding so furiously in his wake, and which now slid to a halt beside him under pressure of its squealing brakes, was the same shining roadster that had bumped him over at the junction, and at the wheel sat Molly Todd herself. Was she never to see him except sprawled out in the dust, or otherwise as a figure of ridicule? Blushing, humiliated, ready to sink into the ground with mortification, he could not lift his shamed eyes to her face. But Molly Todd paid no heed to his confusion. “Jump in here!’ she cried com- mandingly. “ They’re gypping you on that contract, and you haver't a second to lose. When I found you weren’t on the train I started for Los Chicos Junction to try and get hold of you; and I’ve been clear there and back. “Jump in!’ she repeated; and so forceful was her tone that she stirred Norman out of his slump and into al- most as much of a fever of activity as she was showing herself. As he sprang into the seat beside her she glanced at the jeweled watch on her wrist. “Four minutes to twelve. We can make it,’ she announced confidently, and stepped on the gas. Then as she hurled the car along she explained the situation to him in jerky sentences. | “ They’re playing a flimflam game,” a JOOKS COMEE (E@)