Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 28, 1928 — page 53: what you’re looking at

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

ROPE NECKTIES. In this pause I examined again the young feller who’d been so hard hit. His face was part yeller and white, and his lower jaw sagged down. A fatal sign. Feeling his wrist, I found it cold, and I could detect no pulse- beat. Nor at the temple, either. The blood was matted around his heart something terrible, and I knew there was no need of going any further. He had cashed in his chips, sure, without a word. ‘“Ma’am, I’m sorry to inform you that the young feller has done crossed the last frontier,” I told the girl. To my surprise she took the news dry-eyed. “No luck,” she mutters, slow, to herself. “No luck—even when the cards weren’t stacked against us.” She sat gazing blankly into space, far away, I observes, from Injuns and this fight for life, and quite obliv’ous of Shorty and me. The shock had been too great; she was now numb to what was going on. You-all may be sure that I was sorry for her and her young feller, snatched away from youth and happiness just when he had it in his grasp and was thirsting for enjoyment. But, as the saying goes, it was no time for repin- ing. We had a fight on to stop joining him. Those Injuns had made up their minds, or what passes for such, that they would risk another charge. They straggled into a wavering line, but they had become more cautious. Seeing that there were so few of us, compared to them, they kept their dis- tance for awhile, taking pot shots and figuring mebbe they might be lucky and reduce the defendants. : “Tet ’em get nearer,” I advises Shorty, “and don’t try galloping out again. - It ain’t so much I loves you; 1 needs you. I think a few more bucks blown to the happy hunting grounds and they'll start counting noses.” ‘Ata distance of four hundred yards, while two young painted braves in ad- 433 vance is yelling and firing, getting con- fidence from our silence, I nods to Shorty, and we takes a bead on our rifles long and steady. Plunk—plunk—it shore was pretty, those redskins slid off their ponies plumb discouraged like, diving head first to the ground. The other braves pulled their ponies back on their haunches and retreated out of range, of which, I believes, it may be said without fear of argument, Injuns have never been good judges. Faint and soft, dusk was commenc- ing to steal over the prairie. The sun was behind some clouds and I wished I was somewhere else. There was not a thing cheerful ‘bout the situation of being cast in with that dead feller and the sweet looking but sad featured girl who was all woe and _ sorrow. Women is lovely creatures, as we all admits, in their place; but this was not exactly the place. “They won’t attack at night, that’s certain,’ I announces just to break the gloom. “ Dawn is their fav’rite time to carve out a few scalps for them- selves. But we won’t be here. When it gets pitch dark we'll make a dash north for it.” I don’t think the girl hears me— anyway, she continues tongue-tied. Well, I only hopes, some day, a purty thing like her will feel bad when I gets took off, that’s all. She was far away, on the sea of her own troubles. Shorty and I, getting right sensible, compares notes. I finds he has a wound in his left arm, but the slug had only plowed through the flesh, and the sleeve of the shirt had stuck to it like a bandage. It would keep. : “Nothing to worry ‘bout,’ he re- marked. “ It ain’t bleeding, and it don’t hurt my shooting.” Me, my Stetson had been ruined complete by a stray bullet that had set- tled it back on my head. Mebbe if I changed the creases it would still be worth wearing. COPMICLOOOKS (F@)