Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 5, 1928 — page 128: what you’re looking at

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

694 Vig’lance Committee been formed here in town, to get rid of all undesirables.” “ Humph! Who goes first, you or me?” I laughs, sending that drink down the alley. The barkeep smiles, a laugh bein’ too much to expect from such an au- d’ence. “That Mark Tucker feller had bet- ter be careful, or they'll be dating time around here by his funeral.” I grins. “There’s another missionary yelp- ing for law and order, I hear, Hanly Brown, owner of the gen’ral store.”’ “Veah, him, too,” agrees the bar- keep. ‘These reformers are never satisfied. When a town’s wide open everybody spends money, everybody has money; tighen things up and gold gets as scarce as hens’ teeth. I seen it work out that way several times.” “You're right, friend,” I said and, pleased, he wants me to have another drink, but I told him I was going slow. A few minutes later Deveture strolled in and went to his usual chair no one else ever occupied. He was pale and worried, and had nothing to say to me. I stalled around the rest of the afternoon and evening, feeling as if I was paid to do sentry duty more than anything else. That night when I went to the hotel Shorty waren’t there, so I crawled to bed and was asleep before he turned in. The next morning, strolling down to Mosby’s, I found that party bubbling over with excitement. “Vou owe me ten dollars, Flint,” he orates. “I tried out my invention and it works.” “ Well, make two sets of same, and charge them to me, along with that ten I.owes you. Can you have ’em ready by to-morrow afternoon, ready for de- livery?” He looked a bit bewildered. “Can’t you take me into your con- fidence?” he asks. “‘I feels you have something on, and I’m blamed cutri- ous.” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, “You'll know everything in good time, but you'll have to hold your hosses.”’ “Well, I'll trust you and go ahead. By late to-morrow afternoon they’ll be ready for you.” “And now, Mosby,” I adds, “ you will never regret that inspiration of yours.” Leaving his harness and blacksmith shop I hikes quietly over to the Gorge City Weekly, a little shack down the street, where I am lucky enough to find Mark Tucker, the fighting journalist, of which there was many in the West. They fought to get subscribers and had to battle to keep ’em. I had no trouble getting taken into a private room and tells him my idea. “It’s great,” I tells him, “and it can’t fail. If you see any holes in it I'd be obliged if you would tell me.” He pushed back a lock of hair that had: fallen over his pale forehead, and regarded his ink-stained fingers. “T’m a gambler as well as a journal- ist,” he says, “and in a case like this one has to take chances. J would sac- rifice myself to get Deveture and Ren- wood, see them punished for the mur- ders they have commited in cold blood.” “Will Hanly Brown agree with you? J understand he has the same ideas on reform.” “ He will do anything I say to clean up Gorge City—why we’ve been risk- ing our lives right along. I never heard of a plan like yours, but I’m game.” “ That’s what I’ve been counting on,” IT told him. “It takes a brave man to string with me.” In response to my question where he lived, he told me his lodgings are up- stairs. “And Brown’s rooms are over his place of business?” “Correct. Both of us are cutting down expenses,” said Tucker with a smile. “Then tell him to be ready to-mor- (€(0) oO KS ANG (C@