Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 18, 1925 — page 158: what you’re looking at

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

308 neither dog nor wolf, yet bigger and more menacing than either—whose watchful eyes seemed never to close. Each one was duly impressed. The wisest among them decided to devote their efforts for the time being to easier, if less palatable, prey. There were still plenty of rabbits scattered in the neighborhood of the lowlands. It devolved upon a young cougar, arro- gant with the inexperience and optimism of youth, to make the first attempt. For hours he lay well hidden in the crotch of a long limbed beech tree not a dozen yards from the huddled flock of sheep. Bill knew he was there, had known it from the first, but he made no sign. After waiting half the night for the cougar to declare his in- tentions he purposely allowed an arbitrary old ram, who could take care of himself if the exigency demanded, to wander near the beech tree. The cougar sprang. But his claws never so much as touched the ram. Bill was upon him before he struck the ground. Luckily perhaps for the dog, the cougar was young and unskilled in the niceties of mixed war- fare. At any rate, the hissing, growling, clutching combatants soon fell apart, dis- closing the lion stretched out at full length —quite dead. Outside of a few scratches, Bill was uninjured. Came a night when the prevailing nervous uncertainty among the wilderness peoples broke out suddenly into frantic hysteria. Great and small, they rushed wildly here and there in apparently aimless, panic- stricken flight. The thickets were filled with strange noises. Flocks of birds, squawking and screaming, shrilled overhead, all tend- ing toward the east. The gray night air was hazy, stiflingly hot, despite a lively breeze. The western sky reflected a dull pinkish glow. Even Stub, roused from his perpetual nap, sniffed the air and whined querulously up at the heavens. Bill circled the restless herd at a swinging lope, nose high in air, listening intently, striving to learn what it was all about. Something was wrong, he knew. But what? It was that which puzzled him. A miniature whorl of wind dropping ARGOSY-ALLSTORY_ WEEKLY. down out of the sky gave him the answer. Fire. Although he had never before been through a forest fire, he realized instinctive- ly its menace. His first thought was of the sheep. It was up to him to protect them. Alone, unencumbered by responsibility, he would have sought out the nearest body of water. This through no conscious mental effort; instinct merely, dictating that this was the thing to do. Every other living thing experienced the same vital urge. So it was that with swift, sure maneuvering, he turned the unwieldy herd of milling sheep toward that spot where lay the cabin—and the man’s pond. Hardin was awakened by the excited bleating of the sheep, He caught up the rifle and hurried outside, assured that some- thing was wrong. The sight that met his eyes brought fu- rious curses to his lips. The cabin faced the east and was located at the base of a fifty foot bank of shale, so that he got no warning of the oncoming wall of fire which already tinged the western sky with cor- uscant flares of scarlet and yellow. Nor did he at once identify the pungent odor that accompanied the hot breeze. The sum total of his first impression was a bawling, straggling mass of wild eyed sheep harassed by a savage dog whose jowls and body were streaked with blood. Even as he watched, Bill charged a persistently wayward ewe silently and furiously; she careened wildly to one side, crashed into the oncoming herd. Several sheep piled over her. into the struggling mass, growling fiercely, nipping sharply with his great teeth. Speed at that very moment was the principal thing. Even now the flames were licking along the ridge top. Bill knew. There was no time to spare. But Hardin did not know. He thought only that the dog had again turned killer. The rifle spat fire, once— twice. At the first shot Bill’s feet flew from under him. He hurtled forward, nose burrowing into the sand. The second shot found its mark as he lay writhing on the ground. Mumbling incoherently with rage, Hard- in hurried after the sheep. And _ then, abruptly—he felt the hot breath of the fire COPMNICLOOOKS Bill dived‘ (E@)