Adventure Magazine, March 1916 — page 161: what you’re looking at

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

Paradise Bend ~ Po’ Farewell,” he chuckled. ‘Theah will be some powdeh bu’nt befo’ the day is out.”’ “Howe” “Block. His pride has had a fall. Quite & few saw the tumble. An o’dina’y man would tuck his tail between his legs and go elsewheah. But the sheriff is not an o’dina’y man. He’s too mean. In order to reinstate himself in the affections of the townspeople he will feel compelled to shoot one of them. Ma’k my wo’ds, theah will be trouble in the smoke fo’ Farewell.” “Tt can standit. Outside o’ Mike Flynn, an’ Bill Lainey an’ his wife, there ain’t a decent two-legged party in the whole place.” Captain Burr nodded and turned an ap- preciative eye on Ranger. “That chestnut hoss,ce’tainly does please me,” he said. “I wish I’d bought him my- self. I do indeed.” CHAPTER VII PARADISE BEND | Yee the Dogsoldier River doubles on itself between Old Baldy Moun- tain and the Government Hills sprawls the little town of Paradise Bend. Larger than Farewell, it boasted of two stores, a Wells- Fargo office, two dance-halls, and five sa- loons. The inevitable picket-line of empty bottles and tin-cans encircled it, and its main street and three cross-streets were made unlovely by the familiar false fronts and waveringly misspelt signs. Loudon stared at the prospect with a pessimistic eye. Solitude—he had parted with Captain Burr the previous day—and the introspection engendered thereby had rendered him gloomy. The sulky devil that had prompted him to seek a quarrel with Sheriff Block abode. with him still. Sullenly he checked his horse in front of the Chicago Store. “Mornin’,’”’” said Loudon, addressing a dilapidated ancient sitting on a cracker- box. “Can ye tell me where Cap’n Burr lives?” “Howdy, stranger?” replied the elderly person, eying with extreme disfavor the 88 brand on Ranger’s hip. “I sure can. Ride on down past the Three Card, turn to the left an’ keep a-goin’. It’s the last house.” | gs Loudon nodded and continued on his way. The ancient followed him with alert eyes. When Loudon drew abreast of the Three Card Saloon a man issued from the door- way, glimpsed Ranger’s brand and im- mediately hastened into the street and greeted Loudon after the fashion of an old friend, “C’mon an’ licker,” invited the man, as Loudon checked his horse. “‘Now that’s what I call meetin’ -ye with a brass band,” remarked Loudon. “Do ye always make a stranger to home this- a-way?”’ “‘Always,” grinned the other. ‘I’m the reception committee.”’ “Ym trailin’ ye,’ said Loudon, dis- mounting. He flung the reins over Ranger’s head and followed the cordial individual into the saloon. While they stood at the bar Loudon took stock of the other man. He was a good-looking young fellow, strong-chinned straight-mouthed, with brown hair and eyes. His expression was winning, too winning, and there was a certain knowing look in his eye that did not appeal to Loudon. The latter drank his whisky slowly, his brain busily searching for the key to the other man’s conduct. : “Gambler, I guess,” he concluded. “TI must look like ready money. Here’s where one tinhorn gets fool ; After commenting at some length on the extraordinary dryness of the season, Lou- don’s bottle-acquaintance, under cover of the loud-voiced conversation of three punchers at the other end of the bar, said in a low tone: “‘Couldn’t Sam come?” Loudon stared. The other noted his mystification, and mistook it. “Tm Pete O'Leary,” he continued. all right.” “Sure it is,’ don. other.” The knowing look in Pete O’Leary’s eyes was displaced by one of distrust. He drank abstractedly, mumbled an excuse about having to see a man and departed. Loudon bought half-a-dozen cigars, stuffed five into the pocket of his shirt, lit the sixth, and went out to his horse. Puffing strongly, he mounted and turned into the *“Tt’s ’ conceded the puzzled Lou- “My name’s Loudon. Have an- 159 ECOMIE .OOKS (Eo)