Her firm, supple, silken fleshed body swooned into his arms, and
her lush lips sought Slade's mouth with ripe humid passion. Slade
promptly clubbed her over the head with one sinister.45 and threw
his Mexican cigar away, a snarl pulling at his lips.
'Watch it,' he growled 'my mom told me about girls like you.'
And he strode off to find Sam Columbine.
Slade strode out of the bunk-room leaving Sandra Dawson in the
smoke-filled chamber to rub the bump on her head where he had
clouted her with the barrel of his sinister.45. He mounted his huge
black stallion, Stokely, and headed for the border, where Sam
Columbine was torturing Mexican customs men with the help of
his A No.1 Top Gun - 'Pinky' Lee. The only two men in the
American Southwest that could ever approach 'Pinky' for pure,
dad-ratted evil were Hunchback Fred Agnew (who Slade gunned
down three weeks ago) and Sam Columbine himself. 'Pinky' had
gotten his infamous nickname during the Civil War when he rode
with Captain Quantrill and his Regulators. While passed out in the
kitchen of a fancy bordello in Bleeding Heart, Kansas, a Union
officer named Randolph P. Sorghum dropped a homemade bomb
down the kitchen chimney. 'Pinky'' lost all his hair, his eyebrows,
and all the fingers on his left hand, except for the forth, and
smallest. His hair and eyebrows grew back. His fingers did not. He
has, however, still faster than greased lightning and meaner than
heIl. He had sworn to find Randolph P. Sorghum some day and
stake him over the nearest anthill.
But Slade was not worried about Lee, because his heart was pure
and his strength was as ten.
In a short time the agonized screams of the Mexican customs
officials told him he was nearing the border. He dismounted, tied
Stokely to a parking-meter and advanced through the sagebrush as
noiselessly as a cat. The night was dark and moonless.
'No More! amigo!' The guard was screaming. 'I
confess! I confess! I am - who am I?'
'Fergetful bastid, ain't ye?' Pinky said. 'Yore Randolph P.
Sorghum, the sneakun' low life that blew off 90% 0' my hand
durin' the Civil War.'
'I admit it! I admit it!'
Slade had crept close enough now to see what was happening. Lee
had the customs official tied to a straight-backed chair, with his
bare feet on a hassock. Both feet were coated with honey and Lee's
trained bear, Whomper, was licking it off with his long tongue.
'I can't stand it!' The guard screamed. 'I am theese
whatyoumacalluma, Sorghum!'
'Caught you at last!' Lee gloated. He pulled out his sinister
Buntline Special and prepared to blow the poor old fellow all the
way to Trinidad. Sam Columbine, who was standing far back in
the shadows, was ready to bring in the next guard.
Slade stood up suddenly. 'Okay, you two skulkin' varmits! Hold it
right there!'
Pinky Lee dropped to his chest, fanning the hammer of his sinister
