Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 3, 1924 — page 71: what you’re looking at

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

SPIKES AND SIX-GUNS. He wasn’t the only one who thought so. Most of the players were edging away, and only Lanier, the manager, and a young sub- stitute, stayed to face the music. “Look here, Mr. Bassett,’ complained Lanier, ‘“‘ you’re the umpire here, an’ you gotter hand us a fair deal. I get your game now, all right. You want these damn fools to win, an’ you set ’em up to this gun work. I gotcha, all right!” Therein, he made a mistake. The old man was a dead game sport. He was frankly not in sympathy with his men, al- though he knew they wouldn’t harm any of the Birds, but he decidedly did not like the other’s accusation of his being crooked. “Mr, Lanier,” he said, “I reckon y’u don’t mean them strong words!” “T don’t, heh?” yelled the other, still angry. ‘‘ Well, I certainly do! You make them idiots take off their guns or I don’t play this game out!” “ Hold on,” interrupted Tubby, “ but I don’t think it’s up to you or any one else to name our costumes. We’re playing here just the same as you are, in our working clothes, for we use spurs and six-shooters when we're riding range, the same as you use spikes when you play ball. We haven’t hurt any of you, anyway, and—ah—and little acci- dents like a six-gun going off wil/ happen!” ‘“‘ Yeah?” snarled the catcher of the Birds from fifty feet off. ‘ Well, bo, 7 ain’t gonna play no more—-an’ that’s flat!” Tubby eyed him blandly, and smiled. Then, bravely, he turned to the old man. “ As umpire, Mr. Bassett,” he said, “I ask you to forfeit the game to us if they refuse to take the field within five minutes by the technical score of 9 to o!” “You betcha he can forfeit it” put in Lanier. ‘“‘ What do J care for—” “ Forfeit it your neck!” cried Rabbit Hol- lister. ‘ Ain’t I got thirty-two berries up?” This drew most of the Birds back within arguing radius, but it did not bring the Rube. They had their money up, they did, and they weren’t going to be buncoed out of it. They’d quit the game right now, all right, but they didn’t want any of this 9 to o stuff. What did he take them for, a bunch of dubs? “Mr. Lanier, suh,” was the old man’s 861 ultimatum, “them five minutes are now startin’, an’ onless you-all take the fiel” be- fo’ they run out I’m statin’ that I’m for- feitin’ the game to the Triple Stars by the score 0’ g to o. In the beginnin’, I don’t do no recallin’ that we-all made any par- tic‘lar rules. No, suh; I’m right positive in assertin’ that you-all didn’t do no puttin’ in any kind o’ ‘ buts’ about costumes!” “Damn the game! You can have it by goo to o,” yelped the minor league man- ager. “ But my boys ain’t payin’ no bets, though!” “T think they will,” commented Tubby, sweetly. “ Hey, Six-Gun!”’ “Shore,” said Six-Gun Bates, stifling a yawn with his left hand while his right played at his hip. ‘“ I know they will!” Briefly, there was much more arguing, but Old Man Bassett stood there, time- piece in hand, as if he were not hearing a word of it. At last he raised his head. *¢ Takin’ the field, Mr. Lanier?” “We ain’t—an’ we ain’t payin’—” “Game forfeited to Triple Stars—g to o,’ snapped the old rancher, and stepped briskly off the field. “You happen to be the stakeholder, Mr. Lanier,” Tubby reminded him; “ and don’t you think you’d better hand over the spoils?” ‘¢ Shore,” put in Six-Gun before the other had a chance to reply, “I can ¢ell he thinks so!” The professional athlete purpled, doubled his fist, opened his mouth—and then closed it. He looked at that circle of range riders, and he looked at the wilted faces of his own men. Then, suddenly, he stuck his hand into his pocket, yanked out a huge roll of bills, and thrust them roughly at Tubby. “Take it you—” ‘* Careful,” warned Tubby just in time. Lanier walked away. When he had gone some dozen yards he turned, his face swol- len with wrath. “ An’ you call that baseball, heh?” “Well,” drawled Tubby, “if you don’t happen to like the plain and unadulterated term, you might call it baseball @ la cow- boy! 99 comniiclsoo! (C©