Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 14, 1928 — page 29: what you’re looking at

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

TheMan from the Rio Grande es By ARTHUR EVAN JAMES The boaster of Copper Gulch gets a chance to make good in finding the killer of three, and leads a chase that has an altogether unlocked-for finish A NOVELETTE—COMPLETE IN THIS ISSUE sé ES, sir-ee, boys, back in them days of the Mexican greaser fracases I was the main two- fisted, two-gunned ripsnorter of the Rio Grande. And the hand what’s holdin’ my next drink 18 the hand that sent Moctezuma Joe, the chief of them low-down greasers, to the happy hunt- ing grounds. Them was the days! Rus- tlin’ Mexicans, hell-raisin’ Indians, fresh-mouthed whites was all alike to. me—they all stopped their capers for keeps whenever they was unlucky enough to get in range of my shootin’ irons. “ Never a month went by but what I didn’t have to cut a new notch on one of my shooters—sometimes as many as four or five. My killin’s and notches got comjn’ so fast for a spell that I almost cut the grips clean off my guns, “But things ain’t like that now, ‘specially "way up here in Nevada— everything’s too damn tame in these parts !”’ Old Jake Hawkins jerked his big gray hat to a rakish angle, and his bleary blue eyes passed swiftly over his listeners in the Lucky Strike Sa- loon. Then he drew himself to his full five foot nine, threw out his red flannel- shirted chest to make the most out of his some one hundred and sixty odd pounds, stroked his long gray beard in the martiner of one well pleased with himself, and started to raise his glass to his lips with a gesture of scorn. Ever since Jake Hawkins had land- ed in the mining town of Copper Gulch some three weeks before, his constant boastings, while under the influence of the wet goods dispensed over the bar, 167 Go VOOLKS AMG (E@)