Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 5, 1928 — page 119: what you’re looking at

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

ROPE NECKTIES. from the sweat band and we gives the document the closest attention you ever see. We is persuing a list of cattle busi- ness between Renwood and Deveture, showing what herds is sold through Deveture, the prices paid at Fort Pres- cott, and the amounts received and paid over to Renwood by the boss of Gorge City. There is no payment shown yet on the tally of the last three thousand head of cattle delivered to Deveture. But that ain’t what interests me. Third from the top is a mention of fifteen hundred head of Bar T brand, sold at ten dollars a head, a time back, and fifteen thousand dollars paid. The Bar T brand is that under which the Hawley cattle was registered. That was the stock stolen from my father, brother, and me, the time the two of them is murdered. I hadn’t been wrong when I recognized Ren- wood as the leader of that slaughtering bunch of riders who killed my kinfolk. “This is evidence,” said Shorty slowly, “to send Renwood away to prison for years, even if you can’t link him with the murders.” “Keep it, as you value your life,” I said. “I want to see both of ’em swing high and handsome. Nothing else will satisfy me.” “That paper ‘Il be safe all right, partner,” Shorty grinned. “Where are you going to hide it?” I asks. “Never you mind—where no one will ever think of searching.” He takes off his shoes and creeps over on the bed against the wall. The springs creak and squeak like a rat jest caught ina trap. His eyes closed, but the cigarette was still clinging to the lower lip. “Tm tired, Harry,” he yawns. “ Run along and play marbles some more if you desires. You find me here when you returns. I’ve had ’nough excite- ment for one day.” “I'll go down to the Oriental for awhile,” I opines. “ I’ve scored strong 685 with Renwood and I don’t want it to wear off. Besides, I wants to meet Deveture.” “O. K., Harry, run along. When you goes I'll hide that val’able paper. I don’t want even you to know where it is; you might bunk into a mind-reader. Me, I ain't got none to read!” He flopped over on one side. Trust- ing him plenty, I leaves the runt peace- ful there, yet I don’t think he will be disturbed. Shorty has shown Gorge City already that he is dynamite to an unfriendly touch. CHAPTER XVII. THE MURDER WITNESS. EAVING the hotel it occurs to me to take our hosses to a combined livery stable, harness and black- smith shop, run by a nice, friendly Southerner named Mosby. He allows he'll feed our cayuses and lodge ’em in hay-strewn stalls, reg’lar hosses’ heaven. My duty done toward them equines I strolls down the street toward the Oriental, feeling like a free and con- firmed citizen of Gorge City. I drifts into the Oriental, plumb crowded by now, and eases to the bar. Fact was I didn’t aim to seem a-look- ing for Mr. Renwood. After the bar- keep responds to my order and displays a glass and a quart of nose paint, I pours a drink and lets my eyes rove casual-like about the place. Business shore is humming. ‘The dance hall is filled with gals and loco punchers swaying and lurching, and the gambling tables are getting a heavy play. I spots Renwood sitting by a faro game, next to the lookout, talking to a hawk-faced man in a black suit and wearing a dark felt hat pulled down over his eyes. Renwood catches my eye and beck- ons me to come over to him. I approached by a roundabout route, stepping out of folks’ ways, and over = COPMICGLOOOKS (F@)