Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 5, 1921 — page 137: what you’re looking at

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

. THE BUSTER. Bar Cross an’ so on world without end. Mr. Miller specialized on Triangle Up-an’- Down, and Mr. Deegan bought Box H Box only, They was another gent who owned a lot o’ Heart Bar Cross stock, but he got away.” | ‘TI guess these two here will be enough to convince you, sheriff,” purred the black- avised citizen. . ‘Just tell the sheriff who sold you them cattle,” Coryell nodded encouragingly to one of the sullen-faced persons. “He said his name was Stevens, Bill Stevens,” said Mr. Miller. ‘‘ But I knowed him all right. It was Swing Kyler. I kept my mouth shut. He didn’t know me. He had cows to sell, an’ I bought ’em. I didn’t think nothin’ wrong. Why should I?” “ Yeah, why should we?” put in Mr. Dee- gan. ‘ They’s lots o’ brands in this coun- try, an’ a gent can change his name if he likes.” Here Mr. Deegan gazed defiantly upon the group of men that well-nigh filled the sheriff’s office. “Yes,” said Timmy Osborne, ‘a man can change his name if he likes. That’s his privilege. But he wants to go slow about buyin’ cows from a sport with a changed name.”’ Mr. Deegan’s eyes contemplated the floor. The sheriff cleared his throat. ‘How many cows did you buy from Swing Kyler, Miller?” inquired the sheriff. “One hundred an’ eleven, cows an’ calves,” The sheriff was visibly moved, One hundred and eleven is a sizable jag to rus- tle. ‘‘ Deegan?” said he. “ Hundred an’ thirty-eight,” grumbled the man addressed. ‘They was all mine an’ Lander’s,” ex- plained Coryell. ‘““Humph,” grunted the sheriff disgusted- ly. “ How about.the third sport—the gent that got away?” ‘“ About sixty Heart Bar Cross,” replied Coryell, ‘‘ accordin’ to his brother.” ‘‘ His brother?” “Yeah. He got shot up a Jil before we could catch him. He’ll recover, only he can’t be moved just now.” 423 ‘“ Well, you’ve done made out a case, I guess, Coryell,” admitted the sheriff with none too good grace. ‘“ You shore had a lot of luck to be able to@work it out this- away,” he added patronizingly. “ It must ’a’ been quite a strain.” ‘Think so?” purred Coryell. ‘‘ Different here. Soon’s I heard o’ that Box H .Box calf drifted up on a sand-bar in the Hatchet near Sally’s Creek I began to think they, the rustlers, was drivin’ across the Hatchet in the direction of Canteen Creek. Knowin’ what I’d already guessed about the Slash K bein’ in on somethin’ pretty big the rest was easy. I just rode to the Canteen Creek country soon’s. I had time, sloped round: from one ranch to another, then went to the association headqtarters at Surry Side an’ got ’em to assign two detectives on the job. With them an’ some o’ my friends we went back to Canteen Creek an’ col- lected the evidence I’d picked up. No Strain, no work, all luck like you said at first, sheriff,” b The sheriff grinned wryly. “ I’ll be goin’ right out to the Slash K.” ' Coryell glanced over the sheriff’s head. The windows behind the officer commanded the length of Main Street. Coryell gave a short laugh. ‘“ Here come some of.’em now,” said he. ‘Rebel Stanley an’ two punchers drivin’ four cows an’ three calves.” His eyes nar- rowed as he gazed more closely at the cat- tle. “ Dave,” he went on, nudging Mr. Dawson to look, too, ‘‘do you remember them three calves you seen in the lil Slash K corral the day I rode the dun? You do? Tha’s good, ‘cause here they are. How about you, Grover?’’ . Grover Dawson’s memory proved equally excellent. Entered then Rebel Stanley, treading lightly, his wicked eyes alight with antici- pation. The light dimmed a trifle when he perceived the crowd that filled the office. Beyond the sheriff, who was sitting “half- turned on his chair at the desk, he saw his enemy Coryell. He—at his ear Tom Jones was ere we'll have no quar’llin’ in here,’ were the words of the coroner. Rebel Stanley sensed the warping beneath nn