Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 25, 1924 — page 111: what you’re looking at

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

BUCCANEER BLOOD, Tim Holloway gazed down over the bal- ustrade upon this glorious drama. His eyes were dilated, his breath came in gasps, he sniffed, he fidgeted, he bit his thumb, he wiped his nose with his lace sleeve, he knicked himself. The moment came when he could no longer remain, so to speak, in the wings while that drama was going on. He had to be on the stage doing his part. It was, in short, high time now for the deux ex machina to come down out of heaven. He leaped down the stairs, three at a time, and passed his master at a leap—a movement which very nearly knocked Cam- eron completely off his guard. Old Quintilian had lumbered up from his knees with a crackling of joints. He was shuffling wearily across the floor toward the nearest of the villains when he was con- fronted by that detestable little upstart, blinking up at him out of mouse eyes, and muttering threats at him through small un- even teeth. “ Belay there, you woolen-headed swob! This is a white man’s work!” With a feeling of immeasurable relief old Quintilian backed away and again took his position behind his mistress. The honor of disarming the enemy fell without dissent, upon Tim Holloway. With a full consciousness of the dramatic values of the ceremony Tim stepped to the octoroon--a figure that seemed twice his own height—and extracted his revolver from the holster. Old Wing submitted to the same humiliation, cursing to himself, mumbling nodding his white head threateningly. With these two guns in his hands and his own gun tucked in his belt, Tim swag- gered down to the other end of the room towards McCorkle. But before he reached that cathedral chair to disarm the third member of the party, something happened to Tim. He could not have guessed what had hap- pened to him—not if his life depended upon it. It was another one of those uncanny manifestations—wholly to be expected in that haunted corner of the world. It was a surprise—even though Tim expected, even hoped for, surprises. But this intervention of a malignant fate was enough to strike terror into the most courageous heart. To McCorkle, slumped back in his chair wait- ing resignedly for this little spike-haired gargoyle to come to him, the event was most baffling. To him it seemed as if the knights and sailors on that tapestry before which Tim was passing had come to life, writhed in a tumult of action and confu- sion; and then with a concerted rush, a unanimous and well-directed movement— all the figures in the tapestry had eke upon Tim Holloway! Old Wing, with palsied neck, wagging his head knowingly and excitedly, was the only one who understood this dreadful event. He recalled that Dorset had disap- peared somewhere in the vicinity of that tapestry but a moment before. The whole thing happened in the blink of an eye. Dorset snatched one of the guns. Tim Holloway—too flabbergasted to utter a sound, fought frantically in the folds of the tapestry—like a fly in a web. He freed himself; leaped away, dropped his guns. A shot rang out from the folds—giving a clear white line of light. The victim for whom it was intended was Cameron, on the landing of the staircase. A fraction of an inch off aim, due to the trembling wrist of the donkeyman, Dorset, the bullet sang past Cameron’s head, ripping the ban- danna he wore, then crashing into the steps behind. Cameron felt a burn, following what had seemed a dull heavy thwack upon the side of his skull. He staggered. McCorkle sprang from his chair. He was like a maddened hog, rushing to the attack of a man who has stumbled. McCorkle was no longer surprised. The inevitable had happened. He had always maintained that no man can hold up an armed gang. ‘This ferocious looking being in pirate garb had attempted something im- possible; impossible, that is to say, unless he was possessed of superhuman powers. He had failed. Hence, McCorkle concluded with consid- erable relief, the fellow was only a mortal! TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK 101 COmicloookKks (E@)