Argosy All-Story Weekly, November 13, 1920 — page 39: what you’re looking at

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

PRAIRIE FLOWERS. “Come an’ get me, then. But come a shootin’!”’ “You can’t git away with it. I got twenty men here, an’ every one packin’ a gun! ) “You’ve got me, then,” mocked the Tex- an. “I’ve only got two guns. Run ’em in in a bunch. I can only take care of a dozen, an’ the rest can get me before [ can reload.” “Ye’re kickin’ up an awful stink fer a dollar an’ four bits.” “ Tain’t the money— it’s the pringole of the thing. An’ besides, I aimed to pull a hell-winder of a jamboree—an’ I’m doin’ it.” ““ You ain’t helpin’ yer case none by rais- in’ a rookus like this. Come out an’ give yerself up. All there is ag’in’ you is a fine an’ a little damages.” ‘“* How much?” “We'll make it fifty dollars fine, an’ you'll have to talk to Pete Barras about the damages.” The Texan laughed derisively: ‘ Guess again, you short-horn! I’ve got more money than that!” “You comin’ out, or I got to go in there an’ git you?” ‘“T ain’t comin’ out, an’ you ain’t com- in’ in here an’ get me,” defied the cow- boy. “ You ain’t got the guts to—you an’ your twenty gun-fighters to boot. Just you stick your classic profile around the corner of that wall an’ I’ll shoot patterns in it!” “You can’t git away. horse!” _“ Tf I was a posse, I’d surround you an’ string you up for a bunch of horse- thieves! ”’ ‘What you goin’ to do about it?”’ “‘1’m standin’ pat—me. What you goin’ to do?” “Come on out, hands up, an’ submit to arrest before you git in too deep.’ “There ain’t any marshal in Montana can arrest me!” “'What’s yer name?” ‘““Hydrophobia B. Tarantula! I’m a curly wolf! I can’t be handled ’cause I’m full of quills! I’ve got seventeen rattles an’ 2 button, an’ I’m right now coiled!”’ We've ‘got yer 317 ‘Ye’re drunk as hell!” growled the mar- shal. “ Wait till you git sober, an’ you won’t feel so damn hard.” “You’re goin’ to miss some sleep waitin’, ‘cause there’s seventeen quarts in sight, without countin’ the barrel goods an’ beer.” For answer the exasperated marshal sent a bullet crashing into the wall high above the Texan’s head, and the shot was imme- diately followed by a volley from the crowd outside, the bullets slivering the woodwork or burying themselves harmlessly in the barricade of beer-kegs. “This saloon’s gettin’ all scratched up, the way you ruffians are carryin’ on,” called the Texan when the noise had sub- sided; “but if it’s shootin’ you want, di- vide these here up amongst you!” Reach- ing around a keg, he emptied a gun through the window, then reloaded, and poured him- self another drink. ‘The main question is,’’ he announced judicially to himself, as he contemplated the liquor in the glass, “ I’ve drunk one quart already; ‘now shall I get seventeen times drunker ’n I am, or shall I stay drunk seventeen times as long?” - He drank the liquor and returned the glass to the bar. “Guess Ill just let nature take her course,” he opined, and glanced about him quizzically. “I mistrusted this wasn’t goin’ te be no prosaic jubilee, but what I’m wonderin’ is, how it’s goin’ to come out? ’Tain’t likely any one ‘ll get hurt, ’cause they can’t hit me, an’ I don’t want to hit them. “But this is goin’ to get monotonous some time, an’ J’ll want to leave here. They’ve got my horse, an’ it’s a cinch I ain’t goin’ away afoot. Cuess I'll have to borrow one like ol’ Bat did down to Las Vegas an’ get plumb out of the country. An’ there’s another reason I can’t linger to get venerab!e amongst my present peace- ful surroundings. When ol’ Bat finds I’ve quit the outfit he’ll trail me down, just as sure as I’m goin’ to take another drink, an’ when he does, he’ll—” Once more the voice of the marshal sounded from without: ‘“ Hey, young feller, I’m willin’ to go half-way with you—”’ ae 00K (E(0) 5}