Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 1, 1922 — page 32: what you’re looking at

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

822 zen with four or five kids, you might be interested.”’ They had almost reached the road where Blaze was to turn to the left. Tuscarora’s words brought back to Kildare a picture of Mercedes. The thought of what she faced stiffened him. The little man caught the click of his friend’s jaws. “‘ Don’t shoot!’’ he mimicked. “TI didn’t know I was riding you so hard. There’s your road, old-timer.” Joe’s jocularity brought the smile back to Blaze’s face. ‘“ Anyway,” he laughed, “‘ I won’t shoot in the back.” “That’s why I wonder how you and Acklin are going to get along. That sur- prises you, eh? Well, you wait tll he gets pressed. I knew his old man; so I wouldn’t put anything past his son.” Tuscarora bit off a piece of his tobacco by way of saying good-by. ‘“ And just so you won’t get to thinking that I’m ready for the junk-pile,” he went on, “let me tell you that your friend Bo- dine is in this deal up to his neck. But he’s only a stool-pigeon for the Double A. The Basques blame it all on Acklin.” Joe shook. his head. “ Pretty foxy of him to send a dummy out to buy in the place and hold it down until the Double A could turn the water on. I'll bet Acklin’s got a deed for that ranch in his safe this minute. If he hain’t, this Buck Bodine will wake up some morning to find himself chasing his own tail.” They drew apart. Blaze waved his hand. “You come see me some time, Blaze,” Tuscarora called. ‘‘ You always got an ace in the hole in me.” CHAPTER VIII. “LAW, HELL!” LAZE jogged on. When he turned a moment later to look back, Tuscarora had become a gray blur on the sway- ing sage. “ Just the same old bag of bones he used to be,” he murmured wistfully. ‘ Kid al- ways liked him, too.” ; ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Pictures of Laramie, the park, Washakie Needles, the Buffalo Fork of the Snake, and memories of the winning fights they had been through together filled Blaze’s mind and made him oblivious to his surroundings. He came up with a start when My Man’s feet splashed through water. Webster Creek paralleled the road about three hundred yards to the north. Blaze headed his horse for it. He found the creek running over its hanks. The adjacent soil had become so thoroughly dried out during its ten years’ drought that the rush of water ate into it voraciously, and in some places the banks had crumbled away entirely. Blaze got back on the road, musing as he went along on the Aladdin-like effect of last night’s work. He continued to see evi- dences of it time after time. My Man’s hoofs kicked up a spray in at least a dozen places before Blaze sighted the buildings of the Webster ranch. It was late twilight when he walked his horse into Bodine’s yard. Webster Creek cut across it between house and barn. The place being new to him, he stopped momen- tarily before crossing the stream. The incongruity of all this water, with- out sign of living green thing, shrieked aloud. Ahead of him the house bulked dark and silent. From its windows came no ray of lamp or candle. Blaze thought it strange that the place should be deserted at this time of the evening. He sent My Man prancing through the water and was about to cry out to see if he could arouse any one when a short, bandy-legged shadow detached itself from the blackness of the house and dashed madly for the barn. Instinctively Blaze reached for his gun. It was plain to him that the noise of his horse’s feet had surprised the man into his precipitous flight. Kildare had caught only a brief glimpse of him. Recognition was impossible in the light that held. Never- theless Blaze felt his muscles tense as he tried to recall the figure of the man. He could not forget the shadow’s legs. They were too peculiar, and the picture of them remained in his mind as a definite thing. He would have pursued the thought fur- _ ther; but a voice boomed out from the steps comicloool C©