Adventure Magazine Cover, February 3, 1921 — page 104: what you’re looking at

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

98 “The man who gives them orders told them he would kill them if they did— But there were times—at night——”’ “Forgit all bout it. It’s all over. Them two fellers are takin’ a mighty long trip. I’ve come to fetch ye back to yer paw,” soothed Joe, who feared for the girl’sweason. With a shriek she ran to him and clung to his arms, incoherent with joy. For a few moments the trapper endeavored in vain to calm her hysteria, then found she was a dead weight in his arms. Privation,. or the accumulated results of her terror, had caused her to swoon. The trapper surveyed the small, pale face in perplexity; then exclaimed: ‘“Dawg-gone! Here, Rogers! Take her in front of ye an’ ride back to th’ spring. Left Hand an’ his men will pick ye up there an’ take ye home. They seem to have quit their squallin’, an’ I reckon th’ fightin’s "bout over.’ “But you?” cried Rogers, supporting the girl to his horse, then mounting and re- ceiving her awkwardly in his arms. “No time to talk! .Murder’s bein’ done up Clear Crick Cafion way. I’ve got Lara- mie Pete’s gal back for him, but in doin’ it I may have lost th’ best friend I ever had. Tommy Reason may be wiped out by this time. “Git th’ gal home soon’s ye can. Pick up Benton’s nag an’ when she comes to her senses let her ride him. I’m takin’ a little war-path all my own.” With this enigmatic explanation he mounted his horse and raced away. 3 @ on the mountain-tops, and each flap of their immeasurable wings sent ominous rumblings through gorge and cafion. When they opened and closed their eyes sheets of fire zigzagged across the heavens. Straight toward the heart of the storm rode California Joe, the rain blurring his vision and washing out any signs of the Clear Creek posse’s trail. Now the -lightning ceased. The gray curtain reaching nearly to the zenith warned him of a cloud-burst, and he hoped that none of his friends were trapped in Civar Creek Cafion. But it was Tom Reason who filled his mind as he raced into the storm and shaded his eyes from the downpour in hope of sight- ing the posse. He feared that Reason was THE Thunder Birds were lighting Adventure foully murdered, and this dread had been his spur ever since leaving Rogers to take the girl home. “Tf anything happens to Tommy Ill skin him alive,” he fiercely mumbled in his rain- soaked beard. “Old Oakes, nothin’ but a gambler. Yas, I reckon I was soft in th’ head, jest as that Durgin said. ‘An’ to think o’ th’ cold-ploodedness 0’ that hellion! Plannin’ to wipe us out one by one! An’ him with his quiet New En- gland talk ’bout town-meetin’s! When a New Englander does go wrong I reckon he goes th’ limit.” The gray veil made by the descending tor- rents of water began withdrawing from the mountain-tops, and the sun promptly re- sumed its work of gilding dripping ledge and cliff. Every rivulet was now an audacious stream, running bank full, and the trapper knew that the crest of the flood had not as yet reached the slope he was crossing. As the rain ceased he divided his atten- tion between watching for the posse and keeping tabs on the deportment of what a few hours before had been dried beds of waterways. So long as he was on the broad slope where the waters could spread he feared the effects of the cloud-burst not at all, but once he entered the gorge ahead he knew he would be riding with Death. Just as he was beginning to believe that he must go the whole distance and risk the danger of the gorge he discovered a band of horsemen riding slowly toward him. His first act was to remove the piece of oiled deerskin from the stock of his rifle. As he increased his pace he began to pick them out as individuals. ‘Then one of the figures recognized him and waved a hand. “OV Tom hisself!”’ he thankfully ex- claimed; and he raised his voice in the war- cry ofthe Arapahoes. But Reason rode sedately and did not ride ahead to meet his friend. Joe whis- pered: “He’s been hurt. I’m comin’ too late. Th’ little cuss has to hold on to his saddle. Man on each side tryin’ to steady him, an’ he makes ’em keep their distance, th’ game little fool! Wal, somebody’ll pay a derned high price.” If Reason was hurt he managed a simile, however, as Joe galloped up to him. As he extended his hand Joe saw the hole through the front of the hunting-shirt and noticed the dark stains surrounding. “Outlaws laid for him! Come near killin’ COMMICLOoOolkKs (C@