Nogales international., 1931-06-03
First Installrnlent

crJoJ,Gd every loot OF his flight.
lie was running away from seycra
Things that had begun 70 harry HIM
even at twenty: his fathers enemie!
such as mad outlived straight shoot
ing old Killer Reeves but he was not
running from the cnemies so much as
tron the impending necessity Of shoot
ing them. The kid had no ambition
for carrying on the feud and getting
the name OF being killer, like Pap
Hc did not want to kill; he had seen
too much Of that and it carried neither
noHc!ty nor the glamour OF adventure.
Then. TOO. he was running away from
q girl who had called him Tiger Eye
tc his face. The kid felt streak OF
fire shoot up his spine when ne
thought of the way she had pronounced
the uanle men called him. Always be-
fore he had accepted it just as ne would
have accepted any other nickname sug-
gested by something in his character
or appearance, but she had made it a
taunt
He couldn't change the yellow stare
O. his right eye, any more than he
could remember not to squint his blue
LETT eve nearly shut when nc really
meant something His mother always
told him he got that tiger eye at a cir
Gus she had visited before ne was
born. The kid didn't know about that,
but he knew he had it and that it was
the eve that looked down a gun barrel
when he practised shooting the eye
that stared back when somebody tried
to give him some Of their lip. They
didn't. very often; they seemed to ex-
pect him to ride with his right glove
off ard his gun loose in its holster,
the way Pap always did.
BIT the kid never wanted to shoot
any one. That was the main reason
why he had left home.
That was nearly six weeks ago.
The kid had pointed his pony's nose
to the north and never once had he
spre~ ! his blankets twice in the same
camp. He'd be in Canada if he didn't
stor pretty soon, he thought. He didn't
wanf anything of Canada; too cold TIP
the- He'd stay down III Montana.
Lot # the boys went up into Mon
tam ith the big trail herds and didn't
conl> Jack; seemed to like the country
fine.
It was nice country, al rigM, and
the kid decided that he had about
reached the end of his journey. From
where the trail approached the edge
of high, wide plateau, he had a
splendid view OF the country spread
out below him.
He could look right down into the
wide mouth of that coulee and see cor
rails, the squatty stable and the small
house backed up against the red sand
stone wall. Maybe he could get job
and stop right there, without looking
any farther.
The kid swung his slim body around
in the saddle to see if his pack horse
was coming right along as he should,
and as he did so his buckskin horse
squatted and SHE'D violently away from
something white Auttering in the top
of soapweed alongside the road.
He spurred Pecos toward the white
hutter, talking to him softly; leaned
over and plucked the paper off the
bush and examined the thing as he
rode. 1t seemed to be crude map OF
the country lying down below him, be-
tween the bench and the river.
The kid spread the paper flat on his
saddle horn and got it lined up with
the country. Yes, here was the place
he was coming to. According to the
paper, the ranch was owned by man
named Nate Wheeler and his brand
was the Cross O. He was in luck. He
could ride right up and call the man
by name, just as if he'd heard all about
him. 1t would make difference, all
right Nate Wheeler wouldn't think
he was just some hy-by-night stranger
riding through. He'd probably give
him work; he would, if he had any.
A man was riding toward him, COM
ing out of the wide-armed coulee to
the left-the one which the map had
identified as Nate Wheeler's place.
The kid saw him the minute he came
around the bold rock ledge that marked
that end of the coulee and he Won
dered if this might not be Nate Vince
Ter himself. He'd ask him, anyway,
as soon as they met.
The two solitary horsemen rode up
into sight of each other suddenly,
fifty yards apart and the slope drop
ping away on either side. The rancher
jerked his horse up as if about to
wheel and ride back whence he came.
The kid kept straight on. Then the
rancher did most amazing thing. He
yanked his gun from it's holster, drove
the spurs against his horse and came
lunging straight at the kid.
Draw, you coyotel I'm comm a.
shootin'I" he yelled as he rode.
The kid was caught completely off
his guard, but he had been trained
in a hard school that accepted no
excuse for fumbling. The PoqC-1g OF
his forty-fve was not split second
slower than the other He felt vlci-
Gus jerk at his hat as his finger
frightened around the trigger of his
gun. Then he was riding forward to
where the man had toppled from his
horse. he little pinto SHE'D away and
would have started running, but the