Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 1, 1922 — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

WHISPERING SAGE. purred. “I’m going to breathe my horse, and we're going to drink our bellies full of water before we light out of here. What's all the big excite, anyways? I got a permit to cross this country.” “ Let’s see it,” Skip and the other—Chet Devine—demanded. ‘‘ Now, what did I do with that permit?” Blaze then took his hat off, and peered into it. | . “Oh, yes!” He laughed. “ Here it is!” And in his hand Kildare held a derringer that had been strapped in his sombrero. ‘Stick ’em up?” he said in velvety tones. “ Well, I'll be damned!” Skip began. He stopped short, and instinctively Blaze sensed that some one was back of him; but he dared not turn around. Before Skip could recover his tongue a voice droned in sweet and dreadful tones in Kildare’s ear: ‘That’s good! That’s awfully good! It’s your turn to elevate, stranger!”’ Blaze felt a gun-barrel boring into his neck. He obliged with alacrity. With nimble fingers his guns were taken from him. This detail attended to the man at his back continued not unpleasantly: “Take your hands down, and shake. I’m Cash Morrow, the foreman of the outfit these innocent little lambs belong to; but I can appreciate art when I see it. Shake!” The bronzed, lean, sinewy Cash, for all his years, was a fit mate for the big man before him. Kildare grinned at him as Cash handed back his guns. ‘Sure ’nough. I didn’t know I was giv- ing a show,” he said easily, with the famili- arity bred of the desert. I’m mighty sorry, I discommoded your boys, Cash. I thought maybe they were some of those Basque sheepmen I hear this valley is loaded up with.” The delicious twinkle, which was one of his happiest mannerisms, came into Kil- dare’s eyes as he uttered this rank false- hood. Chet and Skip were as uncomfor- table as two bashful schoolboys. A laugh from the direction of the lower end of the willows was little calculated to restore their equanimity. ‘‘ Basque sheepmen!” a voice exclaimed mockingly. 811 A freckled face topped by a shock of red hair appeared above a green mahogany bush. Thered-haired one sized up Blaze. ‘‘ Say, pardner,” he asked, ‘“ who are you ridin’ for?” There was a noticeable drawl in Kil- dare’s voice; an ease of expression that made him at home among these buckaroos. Also there was that elision of unnecessary words, and at the same time an indirection of approach to the main subject, which stamped him desert-bred. ‘Why ”—and although he answered the man with the flaming hair, his eyes followed Cash—“ I’m riding for the Double A, if the foreman gets the right dope. We ”—nod- ning toward his horse—“ been getting our eats from the Lonely O up in Monty. Old Ted reckoned I’d wind up here.” ‘Take him on, Cash,’ the owner of the freckles urged, coming out of the shelter of the bushes. “Chet and Skip ain’t ng darn use, nohow, except to help Chink Charlie in the cook-house. You'll save one man’s wages.” “You lay off the boys, Melody,” Cash cut in. ‘“ They’ll both make hands yet. Although that hat trick is older than I am. It ‘ll be forty and cakes until the fall round- up is over, Kildare. Are you on?” Blaze grinned. ‘ You’ve sure hired a man, mister.” “You'll double that if you throw a wise crap,” Melody added. “To-day is pay- day, and pay-day aim is poor, or you wouldn’t have got away so easily with the hat trick.” “Skip will tell you what to do,” Cash went on. “ You better drift down into the valley to-night, Skip. String out along the old Webster wash. Don’t let any one through. Here, Kildare, you take my rifle.” ‘What, Basques?” Blaze questioned. ‘ Basques will do,” Cash nodded. “ I'll be down in the morning.” He mounted his horse and rode off. ‘“ Here’s where the boscos get it,”’ Melody said gloomily as he made coffee for Blaze. Skip and Chet were asleep. “ All this talk of losin’ stock is bunk. We’re just gettin’ ready for another grab. I got eyes and sense,”’ “Land?” Blaze queried. comicloool C©