Why should a man be running around on all fours and growling like a dog? Lee Winters found out when he encountered Dr. Mesmer Ludwig. . .

It was a spooky night when Deputy Marshal Lee Winters met a man who knew what was What, a man who knew when was When, and a man who knew where was Where...

Dardeen Blackwood had loved bees, always had them around her—but Dardeen Blackwood was dead, murdered years ago. But now Lee Winters and Doc Bogannon both heard the sound of bees, and Winters had seen a woman who looked like Dardeen Blackwood get off the incoming stage . . .

“It’ll sharpen anything for you that you want sharpened, Winters,” the deputy marshal was told. And Lee Winters, though doubtful of this purported magic, figured it was worth trying out, under the powdersmoke-threatening circumstances. . .

An uncanny tale of the fate that befell a yachting party on the awful island of living dead men

Verse

Verse

An alluring but deadly horror out of past centuries menaced the life of a young American

A powerful story of stark horror, and the dreadful thing that happened in a lone lodge in the Maine woods

A tale of the planet Mars and a terrible monstrosity that called its victims to it from afar

A three-part serial story of a weird roofed city and the strangest people ever spawned

Verse, a tribute to the latt Robert E. Howard

A strange and curious story about a banker whose only fear was that be might he buried alive

A story of the shocking revelation that came to the twenty-first Baron Kralitz

A weird-scientific story by a late British writer

Not the least of the puzzles and terrors of Tallyho Canyon for Lee Winters was the fact that all the eerie characters he met there seemed to know him!

This troupe of traveling actors were presenting a play dealing with the execution of King Charles the First of England at the hands of the Puritans. Lee Winters had heard about this struggle from the history books that his wife had read to him, and the actors certainly looked impressive dressed up in the costumes of Cavaliers and Roundheads. But they seemed to have trouble getting a man to play the role of the King—every man they picked seemed to disappear soon after. . . . Then Winters was selected to play the famous role. . . .

It didn’t make for domestic bliss when banker Phil Thornton’s wife started to refer to Thornton’s ex-lawman father as the town loafer . . .

It seemed to the deputy marshal—especially when he rode alone—that he lived in a world where he did not belong, or in a time long departed

This was the strangest corpse anyone in Forlorn Gap had ever seen, for in the unfortunate’s pockets was a note reading: “….Please do not bury me. I am not dead.”

Suddenly, all the menfolk around Forlorn Gap were drifting away to dig shadowy gold, while womenfolk were mysteriously being killed . . .

How could anyone be burning so much brush out here on Alkali Flats? And these were the strangest-looking men that Lee Winters had seen in a long time.

They said that the Bodep Opera House in Forlorn Gap was haunted, that a murdered opera singer awaited the man who had slain her there. And that man was believed to be Jason Inbred—the very gent whom Lee Winters had been assigned to track down!

Swindlers ought to be shot, Winters thought. But, at least, he could capture this one, and put him in jail where he belonged. And if the snake resisted . . .

Deputy Marshal Winters had been called upon to assist lovely damsels in distress before—but never a damsel like this, and never in this kind of distress!

There was a sudden influx of hardly desirable-looking persons into town, as well as an upcropping of bodies discovered at daybreak. And it was the strangers, Winters found, who were the victims.

Something was wrong in Forlorn Gap; this fancy doctor had come in, and, suddenly just about everyone was awfully sick.

Doc Bogannon looked at the two monkeys seated at his tables, and wondered what breed they were. Winters, as usual, had kept a wary eye on them. But there remained the disconcerting fact that the man this pair had gone off with, the previous night, was now reported missing—and so was Lee Winters!

Legend had it that Indians had turned a man into stone. Deputy Marshal Lee Winters, however, scoffed at such nonsense. Yet, whatever had happened to Danny Sobo—and that intense-looking stranger with whom he had left Bogannon’s saloon, a night ago?

There was nothing in Deputy Marshal Winters’ experience to match what he went through in Tallyho Canyon...

The strangers were taking Winters to one of Coronado’s fabulous cities—a city of Cibola!

Travelsted and Gordo had quite a collection of friends!

Deputy Marshal Lee Winters thought he’d seen just about every possible kind of creep—and all of them dangerous. That was before he encountered the one who called himself King Kiff-Wiff!

Deputy Marshal Lee Winters thought he’d seen just about every possible kind of creep—and all of them dangerous. That was before he encountered the one who called himself King Kiff-Wiff!

What was the secret of the light, far up the mountainside—and the terrible cries that arose every now and then?

Was it just the after-effects of the slug that grazed his skull, or did Lee Winters really have an utterly strange encounter in ghostly Lowbow Canyon?

Omaha takes my six-gun in both hands like he is chopping wood with an axe, squeezes the trigger, and blasts a hole through Wintergreen’s hat-brim!

Piper played the flute, and Winters broke into a sweat; on his last ride across Alkali Flat, he’d heard music . .

When the man who never slept met the stranger who claimed to be three hundred and eighty-seven years old, another gunsmoke headache was building up for the reluctant lawman of Forlorn Gap.

The easily-frightened lawman of Forlorn Gap meets a spell-binder!

Here’s another tale of the harrowing events that took place around Alkali Flat, and the deputy who was anything but fearless!

There was no such thing as a ghost, maintained the hardly-valiant Deputy Marshal. Now, if he could only convince himself of this assertion . . .

A wail in the night. . . plaintive cries echoing over Alkali Flat. . . and a man with a noble nose. Deputy Marshal Lee Winters felt un-easy—and, as usual, he had good reason. . .

It had been sworn to, by reputable, God-fearing men that night-riders, marching ghosts, and eerie cries were afoot in Forlorn Gap after dark. And Deputy Lee Winters, himself, had seen a werewolf . . .

It is too bad that Deputy Marshal Lee Winters didn’t live in modern times. For, if he had been so fortunate, he would have had more than Cannon Ball at his disposal for a quick ride over eerie, spooky Alkali Flats.