Adventure, November 1915 — page 188: what you’re looking at

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

186 warning revolver he rose and placed his wife aside and advanced upon the old man. “Saved my little kid’s life, eh? Well, stranger, I do thank ye. Even a deputy sheriff has some soul, even if he don’t al- ways treat his woman white. But I thank ye for saving the kid—and I thank ye for bringing Jane and me together and back to our senses again. You don’t have to va- moose the house till you’re good and ready.” “Much obliged,” dryly replied the old man, slipping his gun into the holster and tossing the man’s belt and weapon upon the table. ‘‘Glad to have ye feel that way. But I shall feel better over’n Johnson Coun- ty, which are some twenty miles away and which I’m a hankering to reach mighty soon.” “The sheriff and the posse took the north trail. You have a clear road to the south,” blurted out Nevers eagerly. i a wk’ } j moe a o —_ Adventure “Thank ye kindly. Good night and re- member me to the kid,’ smiled the old man. As the door shut out the cold and the dark the woman ran to, the window. and held the lamp, to speed him departing. When she returned to her husband her voice was faint as she asked: “Who is he? Why did he act as if-you was an enemy? Who is he?” Her husband buckled on his belt and, grinning sheepishly, replied: “‘He’s old Jem Peace, the worst old rus- tler what ever dodged a posse. I’ve been trailing him for two weeks, trying to head him off from Johnson County, where the rustlers feel to home and free-like. I gota tip he was making down this way. The sheriff and the other deputies was cocksure he’d go north. They ‘lowed ’twould be a big feather to nail the old feller. Thank God I didn’t, or he’d never been here to- night. Let’s have a look at the kid.” A FLUTTER IN CANARIES 6y W:' TOWNEND Author of “A-Roving,” “Private Harris,’ “Oil at San Nicolas,” etc. S THE long June day drew to a close Mr. Daniel Sullivan, first officer of the tramp steamer Yarmouth, became more and more miserable. His plump, _brick-red face took on a new sadness, and from time to time ke sighed heavily as one without much hope for this world or the next. Seated on the rail amidships with his peaked cap on the back of his head and his arms folded, he wondered if life were worth the trouble of living. In his mind’s eye he could see the future stretching before him, a dark and dreary wilderness unlit by any ray of comfort. And pondering thus, Mr. Sullivan came CEORMIECLOOOKS iGO in