Adventure, August 3, 1919 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

6 Adventure the great, hazy country spread Below him to the westward, shimmering yellow and brown in the heat-wave. Far to the north- ward lay Dolan’s settlement, its buildings hidden by the mist of the distance. Far to the south the gray heat-wave blurred the miles that led to the county-seat. Eastward, to the left, the rocks on the steep mountain range above the rider re- flected baleful glares from the late afternoon sunlight, and above those rocks he could see the tip of the big copper dome that stood over his home. One mile more and he would be in the valley. The rider managed to urge his sweaty horse into a gallop just as something stinging and vicious whined through the air behind him. Carlton jumped. He jerked back on the reins, The horse stood on its hind legs. A muffled report came from somewhere among the boulders above, Carlton’s eyes squinted toward a mass of gray rocks under the shoulder of the copper mountain. “The devil!’ muttered the engineer, un- decided, while the horse pranced. Another bullet zipped past the animal’s nose and spattered into a red rock below. Carlton made up his mind instantly. He jabbed spurs into the bay so savagely that it laid back its ears and flew. Over shale rock, over hard ledges, over sandy washes the panting bay sped toward the gateway of gray-green boulders that marked the entrance to the valley. The bullets ceased coming. The marksman’s vantage-point was out of range, hidden by cliffs and side-hills. The engineer’s mind was working fast. The man who fired at him had a rifle. Carlton only had a pistol na holster under his light khaki jacket. If he could get to close quarters, he might inves- tigate things. That was his plan. The horse reached the corner of Lost Deer Gap and started toturnin. Carlton halted him, dismounted, slapped the animal on the flank and walked deliberately along the outer rim of the granite gates of Lost Deer Valley. The horse started for home. Carl- ton started to climb. Warily, carefully, trying to give no hint of his coming, the engineer scrambled up- ward over hot ledges of gray stone or little wastes of yellow sand. Once the ugly flat head of a diamond-back rattler disputed him from the top of a bluish rock, but he gave it the right of way. Higher up a pungent smell told him he was coming into a nest of them; so he detoured. Still higher he came upon the trail of a bobcat in a of streaky brown dirt, but he noticed it only subconsciously. He was on the spine of the ridge now, and ahead was the t pile of gray rocks where his enemy Carlton surmised who it was, but he was not quite sure. Ebenezer Finch seemed too sanctimonious for this sort of business. The engineer began to crawl. Hot rocks blistered his hands, and the sun heated the meta! on his blue pistol-barrel, but he wiped the sweat from his brow and kept going ahead. He made for the western edge in order to keep off the sky-line. His foot slipped on a rock which hit another, which struck another, until a little avalanche of rock and dirt thundered down the hill and gathered momentum. A bullet whisuled past Carlton. A rifle roared almost in front of him, and a wisp of smoke blew around the corner of a big rock. Carlton started dodging forward in zigzag leaps, The rifle cracked again, but he reached the rock, The smoke had just come from its east side; so he ran around the west side, just as he heard the lever of the rifle throwing another cartridge into place. Wild with anger, aching to deal with this assassin, the engineer forgot his shortening wind and cha ged like a wild bull. A vague figure moved in front of him, blurred by the gloomy shade of the big rock. Carlton pulled trigger just as a big- bore rifle delivered its thundering load through his hat. Carlton pulled trigger twice more. The gusts of fire and smoke turned the place into a smelly inferno. “Yow!”’ came a shrill, agonized scream from the figure in front. Carlton’s finger twitched on the trigger, but he refrained. The man with the Win- chester hurled it away and let it smash on the rocks while he hunched over and held his right leg, moaning. “What does this mean?” roared Carlton. “Oh! Ouch!” cried Ebenezer Finch. He sat down and swayed while his lean, wrinkled face contorted with pain. Carlton did not know whether to shoot, strike, swear or laugh. The cold-blooded attempt at assassination made him furious, but the ludicrous figure rendered him help- less to act. “Well he, t hurts!’ complained Fi till I git my boot off. Ow! Wow!” “Wait comicbooks.com a ee eee eee ge