Adventure Magazine, March 1916 — page 141: what you’re looking at

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

Paradise Bend remarked Ramsay, when Farewell lay be- hind them. “Dunno,” said Loudon. “He wasn’t afraid, ye can gamble on that.”’ “T ain’t none sosure. He’s bad plumb through, Blakely is. An’ he’s a killer, by his eyes. I guess it was just the extra shade he wanted, an’ the extra shade wasn’t there. You’d’a’ got him, Tom.” “Sure! But don’t ye make no mistake about Blakely bein’ a coward. He ain’t. He’s seen trouble, an’ seen it in the smoke.” “You mean Skinner Jack. Well, Jack wasn’t slow with a gun, but the other two was Injuns, an’ they only had Winchesters, an’ Blakely he had a Sharp’s. So ye can’t tally the war-whoops. An’ I did hear how Skinner Jack was drunk when he called Blakely a. liar.” : “T doubt it. Skinner could always hold his red-eye. More likely his gun caught.” “Anyway, Tommy, you’d better not go cavortin’ about on the skyline too plen- teous. It wouldn’t bother Blakely none to bushwhack ye.” | “Oh, he wouldn’t do that. He ain’t the bushwhackin’ kind.” “Oh, ain’t he? Now just because he ain’t never done nothin’ like that, it don’t prove he won’t. He’s got a killer’s eyes, I tell ye, an’ drillin’ ye would tickle him to death. Ye run a blazer on him, an’ he quit cold. Other gents seen the play. He won’t never forget that. He’ll down ye on the square, or what looks like an even break, if he can. But if he can’t he’ll down ye anyway.” “Rustlers ramblin’ over yore way any?” © inquired Loudon in a meaning tone. Johnny Ramsay struck his saddle-horn a resounding thwack with his open palm. “Tf we could only get him that way!’’ he exclaimed. ‘But he’s slicker’n axle-grease.”’ “The 88 will brand one calf too many some day. Hell’s delight! What do they do with ’em? Ye ride the range an’ ye ride the range an’ ye don’t find no cows with un- healed brands. Iseen twelve, though, with the 88 brand that looked like some gent had been addin’ to Bar-S with a runnin’-iron. But the brands was all healed up. Anyway, we’ve lost forty cows, an’ I dunno how many calves” >. “They'll turn up again.” “‘Sure—carryin’ the 88 brand. My idea is that them rustlers brand ’em an’ then hold “em in some blind cafion over near the Fall- in’ Horse till the burns heal up, an’ then 139 they throw ’em loose on the range again. If the cows do drift across to the Bar-S, what’s the dif? They got the 88 brand.” “That sounds good. Why don’t ye take a little wander ’round the scenery near the Fallin’: Horse?”’ “T have; I didn’t see nothin’. got ’em hid somewhere all right. One day I runs across Marvin, an’ I had a job losin’ him. He stuck to me closer’n tar all day. He was worried some, I seen that.” “Goin’ back?” ‘Till I find their cache I am.” ‘“‘That’s another reason for makin’ Blake- ly so friendly. He knows ye won’t stop lookin’. Ain’t it the devil an’ all? The measly Sheriff just squats down on his hun- kers an’ does nothin’ while we lose cows in car-lots. An’ when our cows go, we kiss ’em good-by. They never come back—not even. with their brand altered. Ye can’t change Cross-in-a-box to 88,” ‘With the Bar-S it’s a cinch. But the boss won’t take another brand. Not him. He'll stick to Bar-S till he ain’t got a cow to run the iron on.” “Oh, it’s a great system the 88 outfit are workin’! An’ with Sheriff Block an’ most all o’ Marysville an’ Farewell their friends it’s a hard game to buck. Talk o’ law! There ain’t none in Fort Creek County.” “The only play is Vigilantes, an’ it can’t come to them till there’s proof. We all know Blakely an’ the 88 bunch are up to their hocks in this rustlin’ deal, but we can’t prove it.” “There’s the worst o’ bein’ straight,” complained Johnny Ramsay. “Ye know some tinhorn is a-grabbin’ all yeown. Yo’re certain sure who the gent is, but ye can’t hop out an’ bust him ‘without ye catch him a-grabbin’ or else a-wearin’ yore pet pants.”’ “‘That’s whatever,” agreed Loudon. Five miles out of Farewell, where the trail forked, one branch leading southeast to the Cross-in-a-box, the other to the Bar-S, Loudon checked his horse. “Keep a-goin’,”’ said Johnny Ramsay. “T’m travelin’ with you a spell. I’m kind o’ sick o’ that old trail. I’ve rode it so fre- quent I know all the rocks an’ the cotton- wood by their first names.”’ Which explanation Loudon did not accept at its face value. He understood perfectly why Ramsay continued to ride with him. Ramsay believed that Blakely would en- deavor to drop Loudon from ambush, and GEomichboo <S ey ate * he Aebeh « oy ty , ary oe ik one hee ty Oe But they | (elo) oh k . ] wT 4, ~ as. a AS ae nt z a ih hae» rie ey ie bh tae a" Fay : \3 Me ar, Ce eed P, ay pe ER AA a sty fs aro, eh US ie ht NEAL ee UMD Late rere PP VAL,