Adventure, December 3, 1920 — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

8 Adventure Lang was busy thinking and had no answer for this. ? “T wouldn’t want to see you get into any kind of a mess jest because you been takin’ on a few,” began Grimes, hesitatingly. ‘But | “Grimes, let me look out for myself, will you?” interrupted Lang, who plainly was irritated. “Sure; I guess you kin do it,” replied Grimes as he went into the kitchen before returning to the bar. When Lang had finished he sauntered casually back into the saloon. Several of the men had gone out and only Hemp and two others re- mained. Lang waved back the drink offered him. “Too soon after supper,” he explained. “Been doin’ some thinking?” asked Hemp with a wink. “You've guessed it,” replied Lang with a cold sparkle in his eyes. “That’s the stuff,” approved Hemp, grinning. “T played you for a man with sense.” He leaned close to Lang’s ear and spoke next in an undertone. “Got that answer thought up?” “Vou bet,” said Lang crisply. “What is it?’ demanded Hemp cautiously. “Here it is,’ sang Lang as he shot a lean, brown fist with all the power in his supple body to Hemp’s jaw. Hemp went to the floor with a crash; but even as he fell there was a glint of metal i in his right hand. Lang’s weapon spoke first and the other’s gun was sent spinning from his hand by the crashing impact of a bullet. “Don’t put that light out!” Lang warned Grimes as he faced Hemp’s two companions. The men had been too much startled by Lang’s sudden attack to come quickly to the aid of their leader. Now hey raised their hands because Lang’s gun covered them. Lang kicked Hemp’s gun across the floor well out of reach and then relieved the pair of their weapons. He threw the three revolvers over the bar and then spoke directly to Hemp, who had risen with his hands above is head and his face livid with rage. “I can find plenty of excitement beside the kind you’ve got to offer, Hemp; an’ I ain’t lookin’ to make any money your way. I expect you'll be on my trail for this, but watch out you don’t step in a badger-hole an’ find me in it.” Hemp made no reply while Lang backed slowly to the door; but his eyes were flashing red with anger. “So long,” said Lang cheerfully as he disap- peared into the night. He ran to the livery barn and quickly saddled his horse, giving the man a dollar for his feed. In another minute he was loping easily south of town on the trail to the river. He listened and soon laughed softly to himself as he heard the dull thundering echo of hoofbeats on the trail toward his ranch and The Knees. “YT thought so,” he said aloud while Dandy pricked his ears. ‘‘And when they find I’m not on that trail they’ll hit for the river to hang out till they think the time’s right for the first job. In town to get the lay of the land, eh? And I’ll be Johnny on the spot when they show up.” He rode on under the stars. The wind had abated with the twilight and he enjoyed the cool of the night. Now that he no longer had occasion to search the skies for signs of rain— now that nothing much mattered—he again keenly sensed the soft beauty of the wide prairie country. He felt a new sense of freedom, wildly exhila- rating. And in his blood was the irresistible urge for action; for Lang Rush was range-born and bred. Mile after mile he rode and finally he made out the lights of a little town in a dip of the prairie beyond a black band of deeper shadows which he knew marked the willows and cotton- woods along the river-banks. When he c me to the Teton he halted on the brink above the slow-moving water. He un- saddled his horse and turned him loose to graze. Dandy would not stray beyond the range of a whistle-call, Lang knew. Then, using the saddle for a pillow and the yellow slicker to roll up in, Lang lay down upon the soft bunchgrass under the yellow stars and the pale, weird beauty of the Montana night, and slept. ig MEANWHILE Hal Grimes was re- PS garding a deserted barroom with a a great deal of perplexity. His strange guests had left as soon as Lang had taken his departure. Grimes had handed back the three guns because he could think of no legitimate reason for refusing Nor did he believe the men would fail to get them if he did refuse to give them up. He didn’t know what the trouble had been | about. And he was too wise to ask. And now another stranger entered the saloon —a comparatively young man with a freckled face marked by dissipation, shifty eyes, and a scar over the left eyebrow. “What’s chances to get a drink?” asked the newcomer in a husky voice. “‘Name?” queried Grimes, looking the man over in disapproval. ‘‘Burt Condon,” was the answer. “Broker” “Tf drinks was selling at a cent apiece “T know; never mind,” said Grimes, setting a bottle and glass on the bar. “Any man can get one drink from me; an’ if he’s got a good enough reason he can get two or maybe three— but that’s the limit.” 9? EOMMICGLOOOKS (E@