Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 14, 1928 — page 141: what you’re looking at

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

LF] NOTCHED GUNS. A click of steel as the man’s arms were held back. “Why, you dirty, low-livered—” The young man’s gray eyes were blaz- ing now as he realized the trap into which he had fallen. “T think I’d put ’em on his legs, too,” Coulter spoke over the prisoner’s shoulder. ‘‘ He’s a slippery cuss.” Another snap of steel. “Say, listen to me—” Don’s face was white with rage. “T’ll listen to you later, Halton,” said Titus Coulter. ‘I ain’t got time. Too much to do—outside there.” He leaped through the door, and the firing redoubled in volume. Cries, shouts, imprecations filled the air. Then silence swept down with all the suddenness of a detonation. “Tie ’em all—hand and feet.” Coul- ter’s command came through the open stage door. ‘ Here’s some more rope— give them plenty.” His hands and feet held with steel bands, Hal Donald turned on Profes- sor Darley as the sounds of battle died. In his glance was new and deadly ha- tred. He had been tricked. Vengefully he appraised the older man, who sat se- renely opposite him, a small derringer in either hand. “So you and that big stiff are the road agents?” Donald demanded. “Vou played the tenderfoot, and he was the sucker we disarmed. Pretty slick. You let me fix your pal so I thought he couldn’t shoot, and all the time he had another gun. “Then you fixed my gun—spun the cylinder so I had blanks to fire on, and when I started to reload you talked me out of it. You’re good. I'll say that. Say, professor, just who are you, any- how?” The blue eyes behind the steel- rimmed glasses were twinkling as he laid down one of his derringers, well out of Don’s reach. Then he took a card from the black handbag, a hand- THE 279 bag which had held jingling gyves in- ~ stead of silver. “ Got them all, Titus?” he called out of the stage door before he turned to his captive. : “Every one of them, hog tied and snarling,” was the laughing reply. “You see, Donald,’ Professor Dar- ley addressed the young man, “we were looking after this shipment of gold, and knew that you were liable to be wanting it. We didn’t know you by sight, but some one said you packed a well notched gun and were overproud of your shooting. Hence the little play in the stage station yard. “We spotted you when we got off the train at Trinidad, and knew we were going to have you as a fellow pas- senger, so we just played a little game. You were looking for a man with well notched guns, so Coulter filed a nice collection of them just to attract your attention from mine.” The young man’s eyes widened as a weapon filled with notches on both sides came into view from beneath the professor’s left arm. “ But I must congratulate you, Don- ald, on your attempt to pass yourself off as a sheriff when you were the real leader of the road agents. That wasn’t bad. It had a smack of originality in it. In the old days, when I rode range myself, you would have fooled me completely. Since then—I’ve had ex- perience.” The benign blue eyes were laughing now through the steel-rimmed specta- cles. “But who—who in the dickens are you?” the young man demanded. Carefully Darley held the card be- fore the prisoner’s eyes that he might read. Upon it was a short, revealing legend. PROF. ALFRED DARLEY (Criminologist) Prinkerton Detective Agency, Kansas City, Mo. END (E(0) .OO (E@)