Adventure Magazine Cover, December 18, 1919 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

IO “T didn’t follow you on purpose,” said Packard. “Back there where the roads forked I saw that you had turned to the left so I turned to the right.” “All roads lead to Rome,” she said around the ~corner of the big sandwich. “Anyway it’s all right. I guess I owe you a square meal and a night’s lodging for being on the job when my car stalled.” “Not to mention for diving into the lake after you,”’ amended Packard. “TI wouldn’ t mention it if I were you,” she retorted, “seeing that you just made a fool of yourself that time.”’ She openly sniffed the air as he stepped by her to reach out for butcher-knife and roast. “So you are dad’s kind, are you? —Hit- ting the booze every show you get. The 4 ad Lord deliver me from His chief blunder. ° Meaning a man.” “He probably will,” grinned» Packard genially. “And as for turning up your nose at a fellow for taking a drop o’ kind- ness with a hospitable host, why, that’s all nonsense, you know.” Terry kicked her high heels impudently and vouchsafed him no further answer beyond that easy gesture. Packard made his own sandwich, found the salt, poured a tin-cup of coffee. ‘“‘The sugar’s over there.” She jerked her head toward a shelf on which, after some searching among a lot of empty and nearly empty cans, Packard found it. “‘That’s all there is and precious little left; help yourself but don’t forget break- fast comes in the morning.” “‘This is the old Slade place, isn’t it?” Packard asked. “Tt was about the time the big wall was building in China. Where’ve you been the last couple of hundred years? It’s _the Temple place now.” ™, ‘Then you’re Miss Temple?” “Teresa Arriega for my mother, Temple for my dad,” she told him in the quick, bright way which already he found charac- teristic of her. ‘Terry for myself, if you say it quick.” He had suspected from the beginning that there was Southern blood of some strain in her. Now he studied her frankly and, just to try her out, said carelessly: “Tf you weren’t so tanned you’d be quite fair; your eyes are gray, too. Blue-gray when you smile, dark gray when you are Adventure angry, and yet you say your mother was Mexican——” “Mexican, your foot!” she flared out at him, her trim little body stiffening percepti- bly, her chin proudly lifted. ‘The Arrie- gas were pure-blooded Castilian, I’d have yowunderstand. There’s no mongrel about me.’ He drowned his satisfied chuckle with a draft of coffee. “T’m looking for a job,” he said abruptly. “Happen to know of any of the cattle outfits around here that are short-handed?” “Men are scarce right now,” she answered. “‘A good cattle-hand is as hard to locate as a Dodo bird. You could get a job any- where if you’re worth your salt.” “IT was thinking,” said Packard, “‘of moseying on to Ranch Number Ten. There’s a man I used to know—Bill Royce, his name is. Foreman, isn’t he?”’ “So you know Bill Royce,” countered Terry. “Well, that’s something in your favor. He’sa good scout.” “Then he is still foreman?” “T didn’t say so! No, he isn’t. And I guess he’ll never be foreman of that outfit or any other again. He’s blind.” Old Bill Royce blind! Here was a shock, and Packard sat back and stared at her speechlessly. Somehow this was incredi- ble, unthinkable, nothing short. The old cattleman who had been the hero of his boyhood, who had taught him to shoot and ride and swim, who had been so vital and so quick and keen of eye—blind? “What happened to him?” asked Pack- ard presently. “Suppose you ask him,” she retorted, “if you know him so well. He is still with the outfit.. A man named Blenham is the foreman now. He’s old Packard’s right- hand bower, you know.” “But Phil Packard is dead. And —~”’ “And old ‘Hell-Fire’ Packard, Phil Packard’s father, never will die. He’s just naturally too low-down mean; the devil himself wouldn’t have him:” a ERRY!” came the voice of the untidy - man, meant to be remonstrative but chiefly noteworthy for a newly acquired thickness of utterance. Terry’s eyes sparkled and a hot’ flush came into her cheeks. “Leave me alone, will you, pa?” she cried sharply. EComichbooks “T don’t owe old Packard . com a = Bee ee le OE SS DS Ee . Cet ae ae See, ee ee