Adventure Magazine Cover — page 150: what you’re looking at

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

_ had done in your life. I’d a had a chance with somebody that wasn’t a —— cheat. Suppose he thought he was en- titled to get it back anyway he could since he paid it to me—the sk “Paid it to you—that gold!” exclaimed Henry. “Ye say Coyote paid you that gold?” “That’s what I said. Paid it to me for two months of hard work doing the assessment work on the mica claims.” “Mica claims?” said the bewildered Henry. “Sure, mica—poor man’s glass. Four claims down below Rumbling Gulch.” “But those claims—he turned them over to me.” “Maybe he did; but he doesn’t think you’ve got much faith in ’em,Morton; or else he’s tryin’ to steal ’em back. I opened up sheets of mica there four feet square and clear as crystal most. He said something about the forest ranger sayin’ as how parties looking for mica was coming up here in the Spring.” “But they’re in my name,’ protested Henry; “they’re——” And then a great light broke over His face. Coyote had said that he, Henry, didn’t have much faith in them—parties looking for mica— the claims were Henry’s absolutely—he couldn’t possibly lose them now that the assessment work was done, whereas if it hadn’t——— “Elbe,” said Henry sharply; “where did Coyote get that gold?” “Washed it out of some creek, I suppose, an’ I’m goin’ to get it back if I have to—” “Shut up!’ roared Henry, who had ripped open the envelope Coyote had left with him and was holding a roll of bills and a slip of paper. He scanned the penciled characters: See that Elbe gits credit for this three hundred for supplies for his family and Xmas presents. I had to git it before somebody else did. « “Read that!’ shouted Henry tossing the sli “of paper to Elbe. “Coyote saw ye was goin on a tear and he did ye the best.turn ye ever You’ve got three hun- dred credit for supplies here an’ Elbe if that don’t teach ye a lesson by —— I will!” The excited storekeeper was throwing some- _ thing into a gunny sack as he spoke. He pushed Elbe into the street, locked the door, and with the sack over his shoulder ran to- ward the Fashion. —~ 3 “Saving the mica claims for me, an’ saving Elbe’s money for his family; an’ me think- ing——” There was a moisture in Henry’s eyes as he threw open the door of the Fashion. “Hey!” he called. “I’m going to borrer one of these horses for awhile an’ when I get back ' Pll pay whoever owns it for the use of it.” Hg slammed the door shut, untied one of the Adventure tightened the cinch, mounted and dashed toe ward the Milestone trail. z In less than two miles—just where the trail __ turns into the hills from Goose Creek—he came upon Coyote Jim, who had dismounted beside — a the stream and now was tying a white bande about his left forearm. a “Say, ye old mountain-rat, why don’t you = get all your stuff before you go shamble- footin’ off into the mountains!” sang Henry with — his old farewell bluster. Then he saw the bandage. “Did he bore you, Coyote?” he whispered, — “Just a scratch now, Henry; I’ve done worse - = with a ragged drill-head. Washed it out an’ s it’s all right.” ' “Are ye sure?’ insisted Henry. “Just a little nick on the arm with clean lead. You just mind yore own _ business, Henry; what you chasin’ up here for?” | 3 For answer Henry lowered the gunny sack — and Coyote Jim peered inside. Then he glared — at Henry and Henry glared back. The kind of — a glare that old, old friends will register to con- 4 cee: ceal their real feelings, ot those same feelings — are not being concealed at all “Why, you old skinflint, ” accused Coyote, “I cain’t be packin’ no glassware. aroun’ an’ = you know it.” = “Tie them cans of marmalade on the back of - oe your saddle,” thundered Henry; “an’ don’t — give me no back-talk. Coyote, I always dides have a sneaking idear that the mica claims — would pan out; I just hadn’t been able to give ¥ ae "em any attention—been so busy.” This guiltily. And then— “Coyote, that was a good turn ye did for Elbe, although I didn’t know it at the time.” i “Henry, I don’t think no more of Elbe than I love a timber wolf, but———” “I understand,” said Henry in a soft voice. — be | K@ AGAIN the sunset was touching the <— ) white peaks with crimson. Coyote — 4@ halted his little pack-train on the rocky «> crest of the main. divide and pulling his hat down to shade his eyes stared across the tim- red ranges. But, in reality, he wasn’t looking at the vir- gin stands of pine and fir, but back-across the years. Just as the dying day was unfurling its glorious banners in the West, so for a brief moment the veil of the past was lifted in Coyote’s mind. “Bluebells, old hoss, we could have had her,” he said querulously, fondly twisting an ear of his ancient saddle mare. “We could have had ~ — Lindy Elbe if we'd had the nerve to ask her! An’ just because we didn’t get her is no sign we. can’t look out for her just thesame. C’mon, | c’mon, Bluebells, we gotta get to Milestone — afore dark.” a, = * as oe A sh Gomichbooks