Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 1, 1922 — page 27: what you’re looking at

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

WHISPERING SAGE. heads of the men below. The weight of the little gun inside the hat made it drop like a shot. A surprised voice retreated from its blow. Kildare knew he was dis- covered. Cries of rage and anger came up to him. His rifle crawled out beyond the crest, black and ominous to those below. ‘“‘ Freeze where you are!’ he cried. With his left hand he drew his six-gun and fired the three shots that would bring Melody and Chet rushing to his side. Below him one sought to steal away. “Listen to me,” he purred in dulcet tones, “I'll bust the first one of you that moves, and I don’t care how soon you start running.” In an incredibly short time Melody dashed across the mesa. He saw Kildare with rifle to his shoulder. ‘“‘ What is it?” he said huskily. ‘“* Come here and see.” “That’s. pretty, ain’t ite?” Melody growled. ‘“ Say, who in hell are you fel- lows?” There was no mistaking the voice that rolled up in answer to the red-haired orie’s question. It was Morrow’s. He was thor- oughly angry. ‘‘ Melody,” he called out vehemently, ‘‘ who’s that fool up there with the gun?” Blaze and Melody exchanged glances. “It’s me—Kildare,” the former shot back. “I didn’t know I was making you sit so nice and pretty.” “My God!” Cash groaned. ‘“ Held up by my own man! What are you doin’ here?” Blaze explained about the water. The laugh was on Morrow. “ Well, you get back to the willows and stay there. All this damn fool shootin’ is likely to wake up somebody.” The two men rode away together. Mel- ody shook his head. “I had it sized up about right, I guess.” “Did you recognize the others?” ‘“‘ Sure! Bodine’s crowd. The big fel- low was Bodine. The batalla grande is about to begin.” Blaze stared ahead. “I suppose the Basques will be bumping into us in the early dawn.” “No, they won’t know what they’ve lost 817 till mornin’. I heard once that they had a guinea hired to measure the water they ought to get.” Blaze smiled half-heartedly. ‘‘ Well, he’ll be like the coon in ‘ Othel- lo’; he’ll find his occupation gone.” The weary-eyed Kildare waited out the hours. No one tried to get past him. It got to be five o’clock and yet the sky held only the murky gray the stars had left as they winked out. It grew cold in the creek- bottom. My Man moved about restlessly. To the east, black clouds sailed low about the range. A drop of rain splashed against his face. Even before he had produced his tarpaulin from his cached bed-roll, the rain came down in earnest; cold and blood-chill- ing in a way that only the mountain-desert knows. Sitting in his saddle, his tarp about him, he warmed enough to smile at this break of fortune for the Double A. Rain in this country was the great eradicator. And while Kildare smiled so grimly, Ack- lin, Bodine, and the solemn-eyed Cash laughed aloud. Every drop of rain was as manna from heaven. It was the last touch needed to make their work as flawless as the black art of the devil. “What a godsend,” Bodine cried, with- out a trace of irony. “No,” Acklin murmured unpleasantly. “It’s the luck of the wicked: it’s always good.” “Let them prove their case now,” Buck sang. ‘‘ Why, we don’t even need that fence.” “Well, it will go up just the same,” the sleepy Acklin mumbled. In the ranch yard, a line of heavy freight- ing wagons were lined up, piled high with fence wire and posts. From the direction of the long barns came the teams, whiffle- tree chains jangling on the flinty ground, and rising above the clatter, the sharp, im- patient cursing of a sorely tried teamster. The foreman closed his watch with a click. ‘“ We'll move from here in twenty minutes. Better get a bite now,” he said to Bodine. It was long after seven when Blaze saw Cash and Bodine ride into sight. The rain had stopped, but the sky still held sullen comicloool C©