Argosy All-Story Weekly, June 27, 1925 — page 118: what you’re looking at

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

S14 Woards rapidly baing strewn by the hurri- cane, remained. “ The church is still standing!"’ Margery cred in Red Wilpin’s nearer car. And through the debris tossed upward end onward by the hurricane, the slim, im- maculate, white spire could still be glimpsed, still pointing toward the wind- swem clouds like a waming, admonitory finger! Another shower of gravel and small stones was sprayed downward from the sheer slope of the precipice. “Look!” the girl screamed. precipice is falling!” “It cain't be!” Friday snapped. “ Thar ain’t been a landslide on that precipice fer goin’ on thutty y’ars. Holy mackerel! It fs a-comin’ down!”’ So slowly that its movement was all but imperceptible, the face of the towering precipice was moving outward—outward over Yumpa. And apparently the danger had been realized by those hapless crea- tures who clustered here and there about the wreckage, for they were running. “ Fire!” Larry yelled. “ Th’ hull blame town’s a goin’ up in flames!” Friday shrilly affirmed. ‘“ I reckon their water supply system ain’t goin’ t’ do ‘em much good now!” Smoke was pouring, it seemed, from every pile of wreckage, and angry yellow tongues were licking upward in growing volume. Slowly the face of the precipice moved outward, and a great cleavage line could be seen, extending from the base to a point not a hundred feet from the crest. That incalculable mass was about to crush down upon Yumpa! And now the refugees were streaming out of the town, some on horses, but the ma- jority afoot. “Ya cain’t tell me that whut’s happenin’ down thar is accident,” Friday cried. “ It’s retribution. Fer nigh onto a half century that thar town has been a sinkhole o’ sin and corruption. Thar ain’t no crime known to mankind whut ain’t been committed in full measure, pressed down and boilin’ over in that notorious community. Look! Th’ church ain’t been touched by th’ flames!” “ That ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. That shining white spire still pointed toward the inky cloud. “ Thar she comes!” After having balanced for some seconds, seeming to defy the laws of gravity, the towering mass of gravel and rock plunged outward and down. Dead Man’s Pass, a mile away, rumbled with the impact of it. A blossom of spray expanded into the air; it rose, billow upon billow, until the lower end of Yumpa Valley was obscured. Then the shattering detonation of its fall roared the length of the valley. The sound of that ‘Titanic crash was caught up by the valley walls, by the mountain peaks, until the air thundered and shook with the echoed re- verberation. Presently the spray commenced to set- tle. It was Fnday, with his mountain trained eyes, who made the discovery that plunged them all into awed, reverential si- lence. “ Th’ church still stands!” And it was so. That slim, gleaming white spire, untouched by hurricane, fire or avalanche, still pointed upward, a warning, admonitory finger. ‘“What has happened to those poor things?” Margery cried. ‘“ Where are they?” ‘ Wiped out, gal!” “Oh, how horrible!” “No, gal, not horrible, but just. All this jest goes t’ show ya that th’ way o’ th’ transgressor ain’t hard—it’s impossible. No man can live by committin’ crimes and git away with it. He’s shore t’ be overtook by th’ law o’ compensation afore he gits very fur. That’s whut happened t’ that batch o’ riffraff and offscourin’—overtook by th’ law o’ compensation. It shows ya, gal, that th’ only life worth leadin’ is a pure, clean, upright one, Thar ain’t a man or a woman down thar who didn’t desarve this yere fate!”’ While he was speaking darkness had fallen. The black cloud from the east was now fairly overhead, and, as he paused, that cloud seemed to open. “ Cloudbust!” he shrilled. Water seemed to descend into the valley of Yumpa, not as rain usually descends, but in a solid mass. It came crashing to earth COMmica@oo SS Co