Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 28, 1928 — page 75: what you’re looking at

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

SCISSORED. his words that he could, in an attempt to goad Quinn to attack or shoot him, to end the exquisite torture he was en- during. But Quinn merely cocked his head to one side and even nodded en- couragingly when Toon ran out of breath. “Putty good,” he commended. “ Ye got in a few as [ ain’t never heard before. I'd enj’yed it better if my stummick wa’n’t so upsot. Gin us some more.” A growl sounded deep in the Quod- dy’s throat, and in his desperation he lunged forward, only to be brought up short by the chain. With berserker fury he attacked the chain and trap, even to bite at it until his lips dripped with blood, and his wounds bled afresh. For five minutes he raged and threshed about, while Quinn looked on in silent approval. “Damned if ye ain’t tougher than a bull moose. Cripes, that head o’ yourn must be o’ solid horn. Ain't many men as could stand up under what you’ve bin through the past twelve, fifteen hours, ’thout goin’ bat- ty. You sure are rugged.” Meet praise indeed, considering its source, but Toon scarcely heard it; for the strain had been too much, and he lay in a stupor. The intermittent roar- ing in his ears had increased to a steady rumble; a thousand little devils stabbed tridents into his brain, and his temples pounded as if a gigantic pump was forcing the blood through his veins. Grim, stoically, he endured the pain, stifling the groans that welled from his chest, steeling himself against the in- evitable. He swore by his scapula that Quinn could gouge out his eyes and he would never cry quarter. Dimly there flitted through his fe- vered brain a recollection that he had been caught thus before. But where? When? Then he was flooded by anoth- er merciful blank; and only his ster- torous breathing, broken by incoherent muttering, indicated that he was cling- ing tenaciously to life. 505 And on the other side of the fire hovered Quinn like a huge buzzard, watching, waiting to complete his ghoulish work, The Indian awoke to reason; clear- ly, lucidly the events of the past few hours unreeled before his mind. Through half-lidded eyes he watched Quinn, and a crafty gleam replaced the maniacal glare of a few minutes before. He groaned. _ “ Hello, back again, eh? Ye was out so long that I'd begun to think ye was gittin’ ready to pass out. Now, look, it is time me and you come to sort 0’ a understandin’, and I hope ye ain’t so spifficated that ye don’t git my drift. Without my help ye ain’t got the chance o’ a hamstrung rabbit in a nest o' lucivees 0’ gittin’ out o’ this jam. Ye had it comin’, plenty, for ye raked me putty hard, manhandlin’ o’ me and tryin’ to ‘break’ me that-away, back at the Landin’, but I’ve got a change o’ heart watchin’ of ye layin’ thar. “Now, look; you give me an order on Mac, together with the receipt for that silver fox; promise to dig out o’ the region acrost the boundary into Canady and leave Idona to think ye are dead; and I'll loose ye. Thrun down the proposition and I’ll leave yer bones to be picked by the moosebirds, and later I’ll git what I want anyway. What say?” Toon shook his head to clear away those damnable spots that had come back, and Quinn misunderstood. “No?” he cried unbelievingly. “Well, ye damn fool! Here I gin ye a show for yer white alley and ye thrun it down. Of all the dawgone fools I ever see, ye take fust prize! All right,” he snarled, “ then lay there and rot, ye bullheaded— MHey, what y doin’ ?” : Toon was fumbling weakly at his pocket to extract a folded paper and popped it into his mouth, and in the move Quinn saw his chance of pos- © sessing the beautiful “ silver” go with it. He wanted that receipt. COPMICLOOOKS “> (E@)