Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 1, 1922 — page 33: what you’re looking at

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

WHISPERING SAGE. of the house asking what he wanted. Blaze recognized it for Bodine’s. “T’ve got a letter for you,” Blaze an- swered. ‘ This is Kildare.” ‘““Come ahead! I'll light a lamp.” Blaze grinned. The place was waking up with a vengeance. He saw a match flicker in the kitchen. Bodine had the lamp lighted by the time Blaze dismounted. ‘You didn’t come through Paradise?”’ the rancher asked skeptically. ‘“‘T sure did! Left there about an hour ago.” ‘“‘ How are they takin’ it?” There was genuine concern in Bodine’s voice. ‘“They’re stunned. They’ll mill around for a day or two until they find a leader; there'll be trouble then! The word has been passed for a big powwow to-morrow night at the Rancho. I wouldn’t be sur- prised if the old don throws the thing into the courts from the start. From what I hear, he’s got the backing of all the other ranchers.” ‘* Courts—the old fool! fight it out?” “They wouldn’t have a chance,” Blaze said, obviously drawing Bodine on. ‘‘ The law is the best way, isn’t it?” ‘ Law, hell! That’s no way! Who wants the law when you can do without it?” Blaze sat down on the porch while Bo- dine went inside to read Acklin’s letter. He fancied he saw some One staring at him from the blackness of the barn door. “You tell Acklin my boys are in the Buttes now,”’ Bodine stated when he came out. “Tl be over to the Bull’s Head to- morrow.” Blaze made no effort to leave. By even the shortest way, he knew it would be after ten before he reached the Bull’s Head. He had not eaten, except for a piece of jerky Why doesn’t he 823 and a bowl of coffee, since morning. The appetizing odors coming from the kitchen were too much for him. ‘““T guess you won’t have any trouble finding your way back home,” Bodine in- sinuated to speed his guest. ‘“‘ Not on an empty stomach,” said Blaze. “It’s pretty near time to eat, isn’t it?” ‘“‘ Say, pardner,”’ Bodine answered, “‘ you ain’t going to miss nothing if asking will get it for you. Come on in.” They went inside. Blaze eyed the sage- hen cooking on the stove, but his curiosity more than his appetite had made him stay. ‘You must have been expecting me,’’ he said. ‘‘I see you got the knives and forks set for two. I thought you were alone.” Bodine turned suspiciously and searched Kildare’s eyes. What he found in them seemed to reassure him. ‘“‘ That’s the way I housekeep,” he mum- bled as he fussed with the stove. “ Supper on one side the table; breakfast the other. Wash ’em all up together. Let’s eat.” Blaze drew out a chair that would leave ‘him facing the window. “Sit on the other side,” Bodine cut in. ‘“‘T’ll be handy to the stove here, so I can hot wp the coffee. I’ve got some biscuits in the oven.” The lie seemed to pass muster. Buck kept on wondering why Shorty had taken to his heels. He studied Kildare’s face cautiously. The cowboy smiled. They ate in sence for a while. Blaze praised Bo- dine’s cooking, not knowing Shorty had been the chef before his dash to the barn. Blaze had been careful to note that the window had been closed when he sat down. Yet as he finished the last of the biscuits he felt the first touch of the cold night wind on the back of his neck. The window was being slowly opened. (To be continued NEXT WEEK.) U U RETRIBUTIVE ROMANCE | ONCE despised romance, and kept such things As love and kindred nonsense on the shelf. I used to laugh at love-sick fellows, now I do not feel so very well myself. Philip Stiehl, Jr. DOOK C©