Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 5, 1928 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

590 “ Aw —say, Rawlins!” Paragonah began. “Yeah? Say what?” Bear Paw bit him off gruffly. ‘ “Why —why nuthin’, I guess,” Paragonah stammered. Trouble lurked in the furrow between his eyes. Dick Nutting marked it, marked also a sudden tenseness in the bearing of the men about him, a sudden light of anticipation in their faces. And as he had said to Paragonah the evening be- fore he was no fool. Fool, indeed, he would have needed to be, however, not to have read this instant change of de- meanor as directly attributable to Bear Paw’s mention of a horse. There was a covert grin about Joe Maddelena’s lips as he sucked on his cigarette. Swede Anderson’s features wore a scowl. He caught Mickey Shawn’s eye for a fleeting moment. Well, yesterday Rawlins had tried to drag his gun from its holster in con- travention of all accepted tenets of fair fight. And now his choice of the ani- mal to be used in his first riding lesson was one which had apparently startled this group of men — men to say the least inured to anything but softening life. “ All right, then,” he heard Rawlins saying. ‘“‘ Sence it looks like you done appinted youse’f Mistah Nutting’s rid- in’ teacher, suppose you git Sultan in- ter thet corral to the south of the barn. We'll take a half hour off. I reckon thet will be enough.” “ll get my saddle,” said Mr, Nut- ting, and started toward the bunk house door. But Bear Paw stayed him. “ You'll —what?” “Get my saddle,” the Nut repeated. Rawlins’s thin lips twitched. ‘‘ New’ mind. We'll furnish the saddle,” he decided. “Very well, sir.” The Nut stepped back. Under Paragonah’s coaching he was wearing this morning, his hat, a shirt of khaki color, a pair of trousers, belt and boots. He caught Paragon- ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, ah’s glance. It tried to tell him some- thing, he thought. He hooked his thumbs into his belt and smiled. “Git thet hoss, Paragonah,” Bear Paw admonished. “ An’, Joe, you git yore saddle.” Paragonah turned away. Maddelena disappeared inside the bunk house door. Bear Paw stepped off the porch. He moved in the direction of the corral he had designated. The rest of the riders trailed in the same direction. Mickey Shawn ranged himself beside the Nut and spoke in a lowered voice: “ Bear Paw ain’t of a forgivin’ dis- position. But me—I’m a sort of a sen- timentalist. I was in the war, too, an’ I ain't what you might call squeamish. But—this Sultan’s quite a hoss.” “So I fancied.” The Nut nodded. “Charley tells me you belong to the Legion. I do myself. Thanks,” “Oh, you’re welcome.” Mickey grinned. “ But watch your step, Bud- dy. Ef you was to feel thet discretion was safety fust, I reckon none of us would hold it against you—much. You see, mostly we raise our own hosses, and this Sultan’s a stallion. I don’t reckon he’s been rode a half dozen times in his life.” “TI see,” the Nut accepted mildly. “ But—at that rate Bear Paw’s per- mitting me to try and ride him is quite a compliment, isn’t it? So—I couldn’t refuse to—try, I fancy.” ‘* W ell—have it your own way, Bud- dy. ve told you,’ Micky surren- dered. “ Oh, yes—quite. to know I appreciate it, really,’ the Nut. Rawlins and the others were finding seats on the top rail of the corral. Nut- ting and Shawn clambered up. Built of long poles set between double posts to which the'rails were fastened by bits of twisted wire, it was a very substan- tial structure, in keeping with every- thing else about the ranch. On it the riders roosted, waiting. And I want you ” said (E() .OO mie Ss (E@)