Adventure, December 3, 1920 — page 44: what you’re looking at

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

34 seemed to shake with the force of the explosion of the dynamite. They ran back to the prospect-hole through a shower of small stones and gravel. When the dust and smoke: had cleared they entered the hole, now widened and deepened and strewn with rock débris. There was a great, gaping, V-shaped crack in the face of the wall which gleamed like a white gravestone. As Lang stooped to examine the damage wrought by the blast a sharp command rang from the outer rim of the prospect-hole— ‘Put, up your hands down there, you two, an’ come out here!” Lang and Condon whirled to find themselves looking into the black bores of half a dozen S. “Put ’em up,” repeated John ‘Thornton, “or we'll bore you full of lead!” Condon elevated his hands above his head and clambered quickly out before the men. Lang stood perfectly still in the center of the hole with his hands hanging loosely at his sides. He knew he was hopelessly outnumbered but his eyes were cold and hard, and a smile that was partly a curling of his lips in scorn mocked the men above. The blast, which had aided Thornton and his men to approach, was followed by a deep silence, and this silence now seemed to hang heavier and heavier upon the little group. Con- don stared in dismay at Lang, standing there in the bottom of the prospect-hole, and a glint of admiration came into his eyes. “Ii you reckon you’ve got good reason why don’t you bore away?” said Lang in a low, cool. voice that carried distinctly to each of the men above. “By ——!” exclaimed Thornton, lowering his rifle. The others kept Lang covered. Thornten leaped down into the depression among the rocks and stood before Lang. “We’re going to ask you three questions,” he said: ‘‘an’ yore answers’ll show us if we’ve got reason or not. Who are you, an’ where’d you come from, an’ what’re you doing up here?” Lang actually laughed, and Condon, who was watching the scene in fascination, thought he caught a note of relief in Lang’s ill-placed / merriment. ‘“l’m a stranger in these hills,” said Lang quietly but clearly, ‘from the ranges to the north, and your ears and your eyes ‘should tell you what’ I’m doing.” “You were on my range this morning look- in’ at my stock,” accused Thornton grimly. “Vour range?” “My range an’ my.ranch—I’m John Thorn- ton.” “I see,” said Lang. His gaze swept the circle of armed men above —fFrued, Nixon, Kane and two he did not know. Adventure « : Bransom did not appear among the men. ‘We don’t aim to have strangers coming in here from anywhere lookin’ over our cattle or trespassing on our property,” said Thorn- ton; “‘an’ we don’t aim to have them botherin’ our women-folks.” ce Ah!”’ Lang’s eyes flashed fire for an instant. “What makes you think I was looking over your cattle?” : “You were seen on my ranch looking at my stock and annoying my daughter,” thundered Thornton in a deep voice. “The man who told you that4ied, Thornton,” cried Lang. “I know him an’ I don’t know you,” answered Thornton sternly. ‘‘Where’s the third man who is in here with you?” “There ain’t but two of us here,” replied Lang, surprized; “Condon there an’ myself. What makes you think there’s another here?” “You've got three horses,” said Thornton. ‘““Sure—two to ride an’ one to pack. They’re in the meadow below here if you want to look ’em over. My saddle-horse is lame.” “We'll look at ’em, all right. But we don’t aim to have no gun-fighters comin’ in here and drawing dead-lines; that’s another thing, stranger.” “What gives you the idea I’m a gun-fighter?” “You proved it yerself this morning.” “T ain’t figurin’ on lettin’ any man draw ahead of me if I can help it.” said Lang. ‘“That’s a common failing, ain’t it?” “We haven’t had a killin’ in the upper valley for a long spell,” said Thornton; ‘an’ we’re not goin’ to wait for the law if we have one now—we'll use a rope!” Nixon climbed down into the hole and began inspecting the rock wall and the crack widened by the blast. Neither Thornton nor Lang took any notice of him. “Tf there are any killings I don’t reckon to be the corpse, Thornton, rope or no‘ rope!” de- clared Lang. “You carry a mighty slick gun, I hear,” returned Thornton. “Want toisee it?” In the flash of an-eye Lang’s gun las in his ‘palm, butt outward, for Thornton’s inspection. The cattleman was taken aback. A gunman deliberately offering his weapon? Disarming himself even temporarily? There was a startled exclamation from Nixon. “Silver-bearing quartz!” exclaimed the old miner. ‘“‘Look here, Thornton; that last shot has uncovered a fault. What’d I tell you *bout silver in these hills? Here’s a fissure with a thin vein carryin’ wire silver. Look!” Both Thornton and Lang stared in aston- ishment while Nixon pointed excitedly to a thin black line in the white rock. EOPMIGL OOO (E@