Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 28, 1928 — page 68: what you’re looking at

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

498 danna and caressed the rapidly grow- ing “mouse” gingerly. “Huh,” he grunted, “like father, like darter, eh? Killin’ must be in the blood.” Toon saw a spasm of pain and fear pass over the wizen features of Pierre as Quinn’s gaze included him and the girl. Clearly, Blue Chin had some- thing on the Canadian, and held it as an ugly club over his head. And asa price for his silence he had demanded the hand of Idona, and Pierre was forced to yield. But what? man, self-effacing, anger. “Cat - that,” ~"erawled- —-~"T.oon. “*T'would have sarved ye right if she had prodded yer yaller gizzard a little. Ye had it comin’, plenty. Now, here. You made me a proposition awhile Pierre was a peaceable though quick to ago, and I’ll take ye up on it. Ye of- fered to buy, gamble, or fight. We'll fight, rough and tumble; my ‘silver’ ‘ag’in’ your poke; loser to ‘ break’ the region and never come back. Agreed?” Quinn’s lips drew back in an ugly snarl. ‘“ All right, Mr. Injun, we'll fight; my poke ag’in’ your ‘ silver.’ But it ain’t goin’ to be no rough and tum- ble, me high buck. We'll fight, lashed belt to belt, with knives.” “Knives?” gasped Nap ‘Toon. “ Good night!’ “No, no, Nap, not knife, pleas’,” cried Idona. “ Yo’ might get hurt.” “Ve’re crazy, Quinn. One of us would be sure to get killed, and t’other would get life in prison. There’s a law ag’in’ that, even here in the woods.” “Vah! Yer using the law and a woman’s petticoat for an alibi, when really it’s the yaller in yer Injun make- up croppin’ out. Now, that’s my ulti- mater, knives it is. The region here- about is too small to hold you and me, for Pierre says he’s gin his consent for you to marry his darter; he’s likewise gin it to me, and I mean to hold him to it, or send him to the hoosegow. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Fer’s the gal is concerned, she ain’t 0’ age yet, and she’s got to do as her father says.” “Yeah?” throated Idona. The inflection she threw into the word was contemptuously defiant, as again she glided across the room. A pace away, she halted, and with her hands resting lightly on her hips, her head cocked insouciantly, she slowly surveyed “ Blue” Quinn from his shoe pacs to the unruly cowlick on his fore- head; then the corners of her mouth began to wrinkle, her lips parted, and a laugh bubbled from her throat; an exasperating laugh that expressed amused contempt, derision. “So my father give his consent to yo, huh? An’ how ’bout me? Am I cow, to be barter back an’ forth? Re- member, mon pére, I will be eighteen year of old affer Thanksgiving. I am woman, now; not child. I have always mind yo’, always; but yo’ must not try for change it beat of my heart, papa. Mebbe yo’ are drink too much vin blanc, when yo’ say dis man can marry wit’ me, hm-m ?” But La Forge, torn by conflicting emotions, could only stare from one to the other. His attitude, weak, subserv- lent, again fired the girl’s wrath. She followed up her stand by fling- ing.open the door. “Get out!’ she ordered. “And git quick,” growled Toon. But Quinn stood his ground. “TI guess Vil stay till Pierre backs up yer talk. This is his house an’—” A lean hand caught him by the shirt and whirled him through the door, and he crashed through the rustic railing to sprawl on all fours. A moccasined foot knocked the knife he had drawn from his hand, and the next instant Toon had dropped astride his back. The Indian’s legs whipped across his middle and locked with a force that squeezed the breath from his body, even as his head was forced down to allow a better grip for the half nelson, and with a sidelong heave he was COPMICGLOOKS (C@