Argosy and Railroad Man's Magazine, Vol. 107 No. 3 — page 161: what you’re looking at

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

an COLD STEEL. “Tl leave your execution to the proper | officials, if an execution is what you want,” he said. ‘‘ Now will you go?” he de- . manded, threateningly. His foe gazed at the clubbed pistol and turned as if to yield. Next instant he whirled, lunging at Weir and flinging his arms about his captor. An exultant ex- clamatian slipped from his lips; his hot breath fell on the engineer’s cheek; his eyes glared into those of the man his arms en- circled. He had tricked Weir by his pre- tense of obstinacy, led him to weaken his guard and had him in his grasp to do with him as he liked. Weir braced himself to resist the effort to force him down. Strong arms the man had, now doubly strengthened by hate and the belief in victory. All the .power of Sorenson’s great body was exerted to lift him off his feet, crush him in a terrific bear-hug, put him on his back and render him helpless; and Weir, in his turn, was tensing his muscles and arching his frame with every ounce of his lean, ironlike energy. | Thus they swayed and struggied in the moonlight, without witnesses. A sinister, silent fight, marked only by their fierce breathing and fiercer heart-beats. The pis-: tol had dropped from Steele Weir’s hand; instead of attempting to break the other’s hold he had yielded to it and pushing his own arms forward had clasped his hands behind Sorenson’s back in the wrestler’s true defense to such an attack. Once Sorenson almost had him on his knees, but by a quick, powerful upthrust of his legs he regained his upright position. However, it had been a close shave for Weir, for he well knew that his opponent would use any tactics, fair or foul, to kill him if he once Jay on his back. “You hound from hell!” Sorenson snarled. ‘“ You crippled my boy, and you shal! die for that. You’ve ruined me im San Mateo, and you shall die for that. You jailed Burkhardt and poisoned Gordon and shot Vorse, and you shall die for that. I’m going to choke the life out of you, and grind your dead head into the dust, and then spit on you. That’s how I treat snakes. Say your prayers, if you know 508 any, for you'll never get another chance. Your friends won’t recognize your remains when I’m done with you.” Venomous and impassioned, ail the hate in the man’s heart flowed forth in a fuming stream. For hate and murderous desire was all that was left him in the wreck of his life caused by the engineer. If he could no longer rule this object of humanity he could at least destroy him. e Weir had made no response to the fierce imprecations. He was working his hands upward, straining his arms so as to reach Sorenson’s head. “When the coyotes are gnawing your skull,” Sorenson went on, raging, “ when the worms are feeding on you—” The words died in a gurgle of pain. Weir’s hands had closed about his tempies, a finger sunk in each eye, forcing his head back. Sorenson shook himself frantically to break the torturing hold. His head went further and further back as if it seemed his neck would snap; his mouth opened te gasp: “ Oh, God!” and all at once his hug slipped apart. Instantly Weir tripped him, falling on top. Reaching out like a flash he seized his pistol lying. on the ground and brought it down on the head of his enemy, who, momentarily blinded and suffering, could not resist. Sorenson went limp. From the savage beast of a minute before he had been changed to a huge, motionless, sprawling figure, with face upturned to the moon. And on that face the victor of the life and death struggle could still behold, through the contorted lines stamped by pain, the man’s brutal passion and fixed malevolence. Weir arose. “You felt the hound of hell’s teeth,” he muttered. With thongs from one of the saddles he bound Sorenson’s hands, pulling the knots tight and hard. The prostrate man moaned, opened his eyes. Weir jerked him, dazed and staggering, to his feet. “Up into the saddle with you if you don’t want another rap on the head,” Steele ordered, bruskly. ‘“ And go straight this time. From now on [7] take you at your ELOOO (C(O) S (C(O) mM