American Gun Mystery by Ellery Queen Read Free Book Online Page A

be, I mean. In the Infantry during the big scrap. Some kind of expert, he’s turned out to be. Newsreels!” He sniffed, and nervously eyed the arena as he fumbled for his watch. Then a vast intensity came over his rather blurred features, and he sat down with the suddenness of a dog coming to point. They all turned their attention to the arena.
    It was emptying. Cowboys, cowgirls were riding briskly toward the exits. In a short time there was nothing left to see but the deserted track, the hoof-pocked dirt core of the oval, and the men on the newsreel platform. Major Kirby’s erect little figure appeared, half-running, from one of the side doors; it closed behind him; he bounded across the arena, clambered like a monkey up the wooden ladder, and took his place on the platform among the sound and cameramen.
    The crowd hushed.
    Djuna drew a curiously musical breath.
    Then from the big western gate came small sounds, and a uniformed man swung back the large leaves of the gate, and a lone man on horseback rode forth. He was a squat powerful man dressed in tattered old corduroys and a rather aged Stetson. At his right side hung a holstered revolver. He galloped recklessly across the track to the very center of the dirt oval, brought his horse to a sliding stop in a cloud of flying clods, stood erect in his stirrups, took off his hat with his left hand, waved it once, put it back on his head, and stood there that way, smiling.
    Thunderous applause! Stamping feet! One Djuna’s feet particularly.
    “Wild Bill,” whispered Tony Mars. His face was pale.
    “What the devil you so nervous about, Tony?” asked Tommy Black with a deep chuckle.
    “I’m always twitchy as a snow-bird at these damn openings,” growled the promoter. “Shh!”
    The man on horseback shifted his grip on the reins to his left hand, with his right jerking the revolver out of his holster. It had a long dulled-blue barrel which winked wickedly under the arcs. He flung his arm roofward and the gun kicked back, exploding with a roar. And he opened his heavy old mouth and screamed: “Yooooowwww!” with such a sustained wolfish quality that the echoes slithered off the rafters and startled the crowd into silence.
    The revolver was hammered back into the holster. And Wild Bill, sinking down into his saddle, put one hand affectionately on his saddle-horn and opened his mouth again.
    “La-dees and Gentle-men,” he bellowed, and the words carried far distances, so that those in the topmost tiers heard clearly: “Per-mit me to wel-come you to the Grrrand Open-ing of Wild Bill Grrrant’s Rrro-deo! (Applause) The Larrrgest Ag-gre-ga-shun of Cow-boys an’ Cow-girrrls in the Worrrld! (Cheers) Frrrom the sun-baked plains of Tex-ahs to the Rrrroll-in’ Rrrranges of Wy-oming, frrrom the Grrreat State of Arrrizo-nah to the Mount-ins of Montanah, these Darrre-devils have come for Yore Enter-tain-ment! (Wild Stamping of Feet) To risk Life an’ Limb in Dange-rrrous Con-tests of Skill in Rrrropin’, Rrrridin’, Bull-doggin’, Shootin’—all the stunts that go to make the Grrreat-est Sport in the Worrrld—the Good Ole-Fashion’ Rrrrodeo! An’ T’night, La-dees and Gentlemen, in ad-di-shun to my reg’lar show, I have the Grrreat Hon-or to pre-sent to the Grrreat Cit-y of Noo Yawk A SPECIAL EXTRAH ADD-ED AT-TRACTION! ”
    He stopped with something like triumph, and the echoes rolled forth majestically, to be drowned in a cataract of approval.
    Wild Bill raised a meaty hand. “An’, folks, he ain’t no Drrrug-store Cow-boy neither! (Laughter) Folks, I know you’re rrrar-in’ to see ’im, so I won’t take up no more of yore time. La-dees and Gentle-men, I take Grrreat Pleas-ure in intro-ducin’ the Grrreat-est Cowboy in the Worrrld, the hombre who put the Rrrrroarin’ Ole West on the Silv-ah Screen! …A-merri-cah’s Grrrand Ole Man of the Mo-vies— THE ONE AN’ ON-LY BUCK HORNE! Let ’er rip! ”
    They tore the roof down. And, of course, leading the