Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 5, 1921 — page 131: what you’re looking at

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

THE BUSTER. you I’d like to go back to my job at the stage station.” “ Fly at it,” Hawk-Face told him. Lou Taylor departed unhurriedly. Once in the street, and past the corner of the saloon, he ran. ao This is shore luck,” continued Hawk- Face to Coryell. “ Say, we béen huntin’ you from hell to breakfast the last two weeks, an’ I couldn’t hardly believe I was seein’ straight when I looked out the win- dow of the saloon across the street an’ seen you fellers tyin’ yore hosses right in among ours. Luck, I®should say so! An’ you didn’t recognize none of ’em. It pays to keep yore eyes open. Yeah. You can tum round now an’ “put yore hands clown. They promptly availed themselves of the permission. Coryell leaned back against the bar. His eyes roved deliberately over the eleven men that had crowded into the saloon. Hawk-Face, Tobe Haskins, Sam the practical-minded, his jaws working over the eternal chew, Piggy Question, and sev- en other men—he knew them al} by name er sight. ‘“Where’s the rest of Buck Snort?” in- quired Coryell. ‘“‘ Where’s [atty Lar- kin?” “We thought we’d get along without Fatty this trip,” said Hawk-Face, with a knowing wink and a pursing of his thin lips. “ He’s too much of a friend of yores.” “It’s good I got one friend in Buck Snort.” ‘“ Ain’t it? S’pose we get started, Bill, ifyyou don’t mind. We got quite a lil ride before us.” ‘‘T ain’t carin’ a thing about it, not a thing. Speakin’ frank, as one gent to an- other, Funny-Face, I’d rather stay here.’ ‘“J guess you would, but—”’ “Put the hants up! Dun’t move! Qvick!” Coryell glanced sidewise. Resting on the window-sill of one of the rear windows were the twin barrels of the largest shot- gun he had ever seen. Behind the cocked hammers, his fat chin cuddling the small of the stock, was the face of Solomon Asheim. The little Jew’s left eye was. 9A “eye, 417 closed. The right glared defiance through the sights. ‘Two off you fellers in de back haf not not de hants up,” Solly exclaimed impa- tiently. ‘“ You put dem up, I ask it vonce for all. If you go for try any monkey- shiners mit me.I blow you in pieces!” ‘For Gawd’s sake!” cried Hawk-Face, waggling nervous upthrust hands,’ one of which still held his six-shooter. “If any o’ you fellers in the back ain’t got yore hands up, put ’em up! I’m the nearest to this shotgun. Go ’way from me, Sam! You needn’t try gettin’ behind me at all!” “ ‘Look out, Solly!’” warned Coryell, a sudden movement at the door catching his “One of ’em’s -skipped out the door.”’ “ Dot’s all right,” said the unperiarben solly. ‘“ Dot’s all right.” Evidently it was all right. For ‘ite would-be skipper, minus, his gun, his hands above his head, returned quicker than he went, and took his place among his com- rades. ‘“ Anybody else want out?'Fearolled Lou Taylor on the sidewalk. ‘“ I just drew one six-shooter. Who'll make it a pair?” ‘“Dot’s how it is,” said Solly Asheim. ‘“Lou Taylor in de front, an’ me in de back—an’ dere ain’t no side vindows. You big feller! Stop wigglin’s You make me tink you do somethin’ yet maybe. Bill, spose you an’ Light take deir guns avay. An’ no monkey-shiners, you odder men.” “Say, you don’t have to kéep yore fin- gers on the triggers, do you?” said Hawk- Face to Asheim, when the bar-top was strewn with eleven guns and five bowies. ‘Coryell an’ Laurie got the drop on us. Ain’t that enough?” ‘No, it ain’t,’ declared Asheim. “I vish to make it all shore. So I vill vait like I am for a vile. gun—sixteen buckshot to de shell, thirty- two buckshot, an’ vill give ’em all to you if you get vobbly before mein vife come back mit Tommy Osborne an’ de marshal.’’ ‘“So that’s the game!” chuckled Cor- vell. ‘‘ Gents, this here would shore make a cat laugh. But it’s hardly necessary to wait for Lou an’ Tim or anybody else. COMmiclbooks.€© I got two shelis in dis.