Argosy All-Story Weekly, March 15, 1924 — page 84: what you’re looking at

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

4 4 ’ ¢ MINIONS OF THE: LAW. _ : 713 lirious streamers!~ I couldn’t blame my old horse, Napoleon, for bolting a trail where he had to meet a pack of those woolly, wet- nosed ba-bas; and I got to my feet intend- ing to catch my horse and cut across coun- try: and get away from the sieht of the swarm of vermin. Napoleon suddenly got kittenish, and it took me longer to catch him. than I figured. By the time I was back in the saddle, the mildewed mutton had crossed the: flat ‘and were crowding into the trail through the scrub oak brush like so many lost spirits—and then, out of the tat-tat-tat- and the blithering blatting came the musical bawl of a cow. Besides making me feel more homelike, that sweet music _ had an unusual interest, for no self-respect- ing range cow will associate with a bunch of sheep of its own free will and accord. I-put Napoleon into the’ brush well back ‘from the trail, being careful to get up the wind so we wouldn't have to smell those sheep, and waited for the. driveling bunch to drag by. First came some sheep. These were followed by some more sheep: which were just ahead of a lot more sheep that were just behind them. I’m not much of a hand at guessing on numbers when they refer to sheep, seeing as how a thousand ‘sheep more or less don’t mean anything; but my best calculation is that five hun- dred sheep too many passed along that trail before the owner of that musical bawl came along, leading that part of the parade made up of about two hundred: head of likely looking cattle. It was too dark for me to see the brand, Napoleon and I being no fewer than thirty yards back in the brush. The tail end of the procession was more sheep trying to make up. in numbers what they, lacked in beauty and importance. Nobody runs cattie and sheep together like that, and having had some experience in picking the safe end of a gamble I would have ‘bet my Old Betsy gun against a bow and arrow, the which is my idea of no weapon for a minion of the law, that those sheep were being uSed as a drag to cover up the trail .of some perfectly good cattle. I climbed down from the saddle, dropped the reins on the ground, and edged a little closer to the trail. Seemed to me like as if some human critter ought to be decorating the landscape even if he-was hiding out hke the face in one of those puzzle pic- tures. I edged up toward the open flat and had gone about fifty yards when I saw a -tolerably substantial shadow ducking from bush to bush; about fifty feet ahead of me. I just let that shadow set the pace and I trailed along. Directly it made a clump of oaks right alongside the trail, and it seemed to be settling down there for the night. Just when I had decided that it was time to formally - introduce myself, straightened up, and I got a real shock because that shadow had a powerful resem- blance to Jim Barber, and if Jim Barber would drive a bunch of sheep ahead and | ' behind a bunch of cattle, then I guess I’d put a bridle on Napoleon’s tail. Just then I heard footsteps on the trail, and in the same instant that Jim Barber stepped out of the brush with a six-gun in his hand, and I heard his voice, as calm as if he were asking for a drink of sody Mitel _ ‘Just put ’em up,” he said, “ and keep "em up.” By moving three steps to the right I could — see that Barber was standing in front of a very tall shadow that was considerably tall- er because it seemed to be reaching for the stars. - “Turn around,” Barber orders, esite like so that if I had been the other shadow I would have moved as quickly as it did and asked no question. Barber walked up be- ‘hind his man and plucked two shooting ‘Irons from his belt, tossing one hither and ithe other von, so to speak. It was an in- teresting little show, and I was getting in -- for nothing, and that made it all the more enjoyable; but the second act was some- thing different again. “Drop it!” commanded a voice that sounded like the bellows in a blacksmith shop; and [ saw a third shadow, a sort of sawed off and hammered down shadow, come out of the bushes on the farther side ‘of the trail. Barber didn’t hesitate. He dropped his gun-as if the handle was red - hot, and the sawed off shadow let out .a laugh that had as ‘much mirth in it as the bawling of a calf that had mired down in- the quicksand. I could see, even in the shadow cConnicloook.