Argosy All-Story Weekly — "Sea Marauders" — page 39: what you’re looking at

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

TROUBLE RANCH. | 461 house?’ Varney nodded meaningly at Carmichael. “ That special bottle, Aleck. And pour yourself one.” Carmichael expertly filled small ‘glasses. Varney tossed off his libation with a single gulp, accompanied by a swift throwing back of the head that gave an observer an excellent view of his Adam’s apple. De Quincy drank more deliberately. “That,” he observed feelingly, “is the best glass of liquor I ever had.” “ Not bad,” was Varney’s indifferent answer, and then with a “ Pleased to have met you, De Quincy,” he turned away. “Been here long, Aleck?’ Peter asked of his friend when they again had the bar to themselves. - © Something over a year. It’s not a bad town—some ways. Others it ain't three so good. Depends on how a party views things.” “What seems to be the main trouble?” De Quincy asked, interested. “Too much of one man.” “ Spofford, you mean?” “Yeah. What'd you know about him?” “ Oh, I’ve heard of that hombre. He cleaned out a good friend of mine once.’’ “T bet he did. Cleaning folks out’s his regular business. He'd clean the gold off an angel’s harp if he got the chance. He won't, though. Golden harps and angels ain’t liable to be com- mon in the place he’s headed for.” “Rates middling high in town, does he?’ Peter queried, toying with his empty liquor glass. “Folks stand for him because they've sort of got the habit, or else because they figure it can’t be helped, [ reckon. He’s the king pin here and hereabouts. Got a son too, he has. Worse’n the old man, if anything, and that’s saying a plenty.” “How worse?” De Quincy fumbled for his makings, deftly rolling himself a cigarette. “He’s got all the old gink’s vices, not to mention a few more thrown in for good measure. Wine, women, and cards are his specialty, with the em- phasis on women. Rotten all through, Spofford is, and dirt mean. Tap that young squirt with a drain tube and he'd run yellow juice.” “Nice pair, from what you say,” Peter De Qnincy observed dryly. “Him and his dad.” Aan t at “the: trath, PD: -O:? 4 hate to talk about ’em, it makes me so dawgoned mad.” “Then let’s don’t. - How are the games in this joint? Would you ad- vise a casual gent to risk his money here, with the idea of getting a taste of swift action?” “While not wishing to run down the house,” Aleck rejoined: “ I’d state that the chap who counts on a killing is sure optimistic. If you yearn for a poker game to-night, Peter, drop around and I'll steer you into one where you'll have, any way, an even chance. Howsomever, it ain’t run by the house. Savvy?” And he winked significantly. “ Much obliged, Aleck. Likely I'll be around. Where’s a good place to eat?” “ Down the street a piece. they call it. there.” “ All right, Aleck. See you later,” “ Adios, P.D. Q. Be good!” Young Mr. De Quincy fortified him- self by a platter of ham and eggs, with baked beans on the side, at Bill’s, where a talkative counter man volunteered additional facts about the town and its inhabitants, so that by the time he had finished eating the stranger felt he was beginning to get acquainted. ACTUS SPRINGS seemed a thriving community, with ev- idence which hinted at a con- siderable floating population. It was an important shipping point for the product of several large ranches scat- Bill’s You won't get poisoned -t4 ci > x —— - a ee © Oe = 4 et ee =" 2 "Sac? bs? "a comicbooks-com —