Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 5, 1928 — page 123: what you’re looking at

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

ROPE NECKTIES. he is streaking for the stable, walking in the middle of the street, hobbling along on his high heels. “T think thar’s one witness we needn’t to worry ‘bout. They can sing songs about the power of love, but re- venge is sweet, and one of the strong- est emotions that ever was known to man. Further, as regards Dawson, that hombre thinks we saved his life.” CHAPTER XVIII. THE HIDDEN DOCUMENT. S we strolls out from the jail, a few minutes later, what does we observe in the distance but a cloud of scudding dust. Dawson is lying low over his pony and scenery is dis- appearing plenty under the equine’s egs. He is losing no time in leaving Gorge City and heading for Fort Pres- cott, according to our agreement. Presently we enters a Chinese res- taurant and puts away an order of ham and eggs as a mere trifle for gents with an appetite. Then Shorty and I sepa- rates, as I don’t want the pris’ner who has been released to be connected up with me. I loafs around the combined harness and blacksmith shop of Mosby for awhile, swapping lies and getting an earful on conditions. It appears that Deveture is still run- ning the town in his own way, but he has two opponents who want to bring law and order to Gorge City. They is Mark Tucker, editor and proprietor of the Gorge City Weekly, and Hanly Brown, owner of a gen’ral store. ‘They opines the city has sowed ‘nough wild oats and should become peaceful-like, and this is, of course, im: possible under a ruthless one-man rule. Dire threats, says Mosby, has failed to move these two men, and Tucker, particular, has a lot to say in his paper ‘hout the evil power that has Gorge City in a grip of iron. “Deveture will end by having these 8A | 689 two men killed off,” draws Mosby, “and it ain’t right. If ‘Tombstone, Arizona, finally had to become a spot where a party is free froma dose of lead from unknown quarters, there’s no reason Gorge City can’t come to it.” We got into a talk on ways and methods of killing folks off, romancing on the subject from six-gun to p’isin’ and the noose. Then, in talking about lynching, we had a little argument, and makes a bet on same. Mosby has a theory that he is will- ing to back and prove that appeals mighty strong to me, if it will work, and he says it will. And he is ready to tackle it right away, having all the equipment to go ahead. He only asks for a couple of days. i Through doing this Mosby brings about the oddest finish to a murder trial ever heard about in Carson County. I will give credit where it is due when the time comes in my story. A few minutes before ten o’clock I leaves Mosby, our wager making him feel quite agreeable, as he ventures he was right in the stand he takes. “Wait a day or two till you hear from me,” he says. “ I'll try the jigger out on myself first of all—so there won't be no fatal accidents.” I tells him the ideer is his own, and up to him to prove it. If a winning hand, I has a notion to work it out in a way that will break the bank certain. Then I takes my hoss, Blackie, from his stall and rides down to the Oriental. Renwood is waiting for me, with his three cow-punchers, all mounted and looking the worse for wear. Their eyes is red-rimmed and they has that rundown appearance of fatigue that goes with no sleep and a few shots of belly-wash in the morning. Renwood greets me sociable enough, the others grunt a greeting. Without another word we turn our hosses down the main street at a gallop and set out at a nice pace for the ranch. It is a cool, pleasant day, and the prairie is brimming with color from Eomicbooks (E@)