Adventure Magazine Cover — page 140: what you’re looking at

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

ee ee CSTV? ee Ue eee ee YS PG TiS eal Wes oi yy rai © oY ew. eel ¥ _ danged burros was removed - far enough away to be safe. Drunks, idiots and jass- acks—all under protection.” He certainly was not referring to Mid- dleton or myself, as neither of us ever touches liquor in any form. Later on I insisted on knowing the prob- able destination of the sheep. “Over in Sandy’s corral,” said Dirty Shirt. “Everything is grist that comes to his mill. He’ll demand payment for the range he thinks the sheep ate.” “Oh, is he a miller?”’ asked Middleton. Dirty and Ike eee glances, and Ike said— ‘*That’s what education does for a fel- ler, Dirty.” Education had little to do with it, as any one would know that no one but a miller would have need of grist, and he spoke of “his mill.” Dirty proved adept as a chef, and Middleton and myself en- joyed the first real meal since we left the dining-car. When it grew dark Ike kicked out the fire, leaving us in darkness. I re- monstrated, but he said: “Build you one if-you want it, old-timer, but remember this: Any jasper who “will load your stove won’t hesitate to shoot | at night.” We spread our blankets in the dark, and Ike and Dirty immediately fell to sleep. The novelty of looking at the stars, and the noises of the night kept Middleton and myself awake. I thought of the stolen sheep and we conversed in whispers. » “The loss of so many sheep must be greater than they»care to acknowledge,” whispered Middleton. ‘“They are like the American Indian inasmuch as they are stoical under loss or punishment. It would be wonderful if we could recover the sheep? I am beginning to like them, Pettingill.” We shook hands over it, procured our shotgun and pistol, and stole away silently, except for the tinkle of Middleton’s spurs. We crawled out of hearing, got our bear- ings from the stars and started on our well- meant errand. We were going in single file along the side of a hill on a tiny path, which showed white in the dim light, when suddenly we were confronted by a gigan- tic figure. It towered above us, a black hulk, com- ing at a fast walk. I tried to avoid the “Adventure impact, but slipped and fell right into the path of the monster. — The next instant it fell over me and into Middleton. I retained my shotgun. I had no way of knowing the fate of poor Middleton, but I ran a short distance be- fore I stopped. I saw the silhouette of it against the sky and for the first time in my life I fired a gun. The impact of the shot threw me into a cactus-patch, and I feared for a time that it had crushed my lower jaw. I managed to tear myself away from the clinging barbs, and stood erect. “Middleton!” I cried. dleton!”’ “Well, what in do you want!” You can readily see that he was begin- ning to acquire the dialect of our associates. “T-shot itl” I cned= “TF shot- 31” “Pettingill—”’ his voice was a bit sar- castic—‘‘I will always thank the man who sold me these leather trousers. I didn’t get hit with more than—let me see— Oh, I am unable to estimate.” “Heavens! Did I hit you, Middleton?” “Yes, you did—you—er—pelican!” ‘““What became of the monster?” I asked.. “Did it say anything?” “Tt spoke. It knocked me down, got to its feet and said, ‘Aye am de ship- hoorder,’ and then it went on, Pettingill; it went on—with my shirt in its hands. If you ever feel that you have to shoot again—hold lower, old-timer.” Then we went on. Middleton com- plained about the effects of the shooting, while I suffered untold agonies from cactus spines and the effects of that shotgun. ‘“‘We should soon be able to see the mill,” said Middleton, peering into the night, “but all I can see is a huddle of low build- ings. One is larger than the rest, but none would be suitable for milling.” We walked closer and closer. Finally a canine barked several times, and a man came to the door of the larger house. Middleton and I crouched down behind an old vehicle. “Some more of those —— coyotes, I reckon,” said the man in the door. ‘They smell the sheep.”’ . And then he shut the door. “They do not mistrust us,” said I, “which simplifies things. “Professor Mid-. No doubt they will be enraged at the coyote in the morning. — S