Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 1, 1922 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

802 lands. Their circle of vision widened. They topped the crest, and the country of the Little Washoe burst upon them. Para- dise Valley spread out in a gigantic horse- shoe. A range, the Santa Rosas, banked three sides of it the never-failing willows marking where Rebel Creek came tumbling out of the hills at the apex of the horseshoe, and being deftly turned, swung off to the right, hugging the base of the hills until it met the river that crossed the valley from one end of the horseshoe to the other. Tired and thirsty as he was the tall man stopped for a brief second to appraise that wonderful valley. | “Ain’t that a sweet country, Shorty?” he murmured to the short, bandy-legged man, hard of face and slow of speech, who rode beside him. Shorty’s answer was a grunt. He glanced with a trace of annoyance at the suave, whimsical Buck; and yet he pulled his horse toa halt. It was significant. In this, as in all things, he followed the other. Bodine had won from him such allegiance as Shorty had little expected to give to any man. Early yesterday morning, over the Ore- gon line at Denio, and again last night at the old Ashdown mine they had feasted. Bodine had talked much of Oregon and little of Idaho or Wyoming; but if the truth were told, he had seen almost nothing of Oregon and a great deal of Idaho and Wyoming in the past year. They had been harried sore in their old haunts. They were in a new country. Buck felt that he could afford to smile. “Yes, sir,” he exclaimed. ‘‘ This country suits me. No railroads, no telegraph, no talk; just a dinky local telephone line. We'll stay here and ‘ Let the rest of the world go by.’” He hummed the words of that popular song of the day. The grass was good in the buttes. They camped there. Life grew rosy again. But even such security and ease as was theirs be- gan to pall. For two nights they had watched the twinkling lights which marked the little town of Paradise. The lure was insistent, and on the third evening they rode into the town and to Benavides’s bar. Benavides was a Basque, and most of his customers were of the same blood. Bodine ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. and Shorty found the place filled; freight- ers, sheep-men, the Basque gente, and a sprinkling of Double A boys comprised the crowd. Buck and Shorty edged to the bar and waited. In all that room no man knew them! ‘Their pleasure in the evening grew accordingly. But still they waited, and now to their displeasure. One-eyed Manuel, the Mexican bartender, was busy elsewhere. The delay irked Bodine. Catching the butt of his glowing cigarette between thumb and forefinger, he shot it straight as a bullet into Manuel’s face. The red-hot coal burned into the poor wretch’s cheek with the sting of a knife slash. The Mexican slapped it to the floor. Murder flared in his heart, but something metallic in Buck’s eyes made him pause. ““ Move, you greaser, or I'll bring you to life in a hurry,” Bodine warned. Manuel’s hand trembled as he set out the glasses for the two strangers. He smiled evilly. Things were too even now. Wait; time would bring an opportunity when the odds would be all his way, so caution coun- seled him. The incident had passed quite unnoticed by the crowd. Wash Taylor, a ragged old mule-skinner, had been one of the very few to observe it. He laughed immoderate- ly. Wash was an unmoral old person, all life being raw to him. When Buck bade him drink, he acquiesced with alacrity. Shorty had to grin to himself at the adroitness with which Bodine drew from the old skinner the complete history of the valley. ““T’m sort of lookin’ round for a place,” Buck was saying. “ If I could find a small ranch hereabouts at the right price I might be interested.”’ This was news to Shorty. He half sus- pected that Buck was merely talking, but he spoke with such conviction that the bandy- legged one eyed him curiously. ‘You won’t find no place for sale round here; that is, with water on it. And water’s gold in this country.” “It’s gold, and precious stones, and the whole damn works,’’ Buck asserted. ‘“ With- out it you and your stock have only got a big thirst.” comicloool C©