Adventure Magazine Cover, February 3, 1921 — page 154: what you’re looking at

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

148 CHAPTER XVII SIGNED PAPER VV EEN the two 88 men had departed Molly Dale continued to stand where she was for a space and stare dumbly at’ nothing. Racey, realizing well enough that her world had crashed to pieces about her, wished that she would burst into tears. A sobbing woman is easily comforted. It is simply necessary to pet her and keep on petting her till her grief is assuaged. But this hard stillness of Molly Dale’s gave Racey no opening. He could but gaze at her uncomfortably and shift his weight from one foot to the other. “That was a dirty trick of that Marys- ville bank.”’ Thus tentatively. It is doubtful whether Molly heard him. “Poor father,” she said in a low tone. “Lookit here, Molly,” said Ratey, struck by a bright idea. “TI got a lil money I been savin’. I—I want you should take it.” Molly continued to stare into the distance. “T got some money—” he began again, thinking that Molly had not heard. But she turned her face toward him at that, and he saw that her eyes were shining with unshed tears. ‘““Racey,” she said, with a slight catch in her voice, and laid her hand lightly on his arm, “‘Racey, you’re a dear, good boy. We— we'll manage somehow. I mum-must tell mother.”’ Abruptly she swung away and left him. He watched her cross the garden and enter the kitchen of the ranch-house. Then slow- ly, thoughtfully, he set to work repairing as best he could the ravages left in the garden by the hoofs of Lanpher’s horse. Came then Swing Tunstall on_a paint pony and was moved to mirth at sight of Racey Dawson engaged in ear thy labor. “See the pret-ty flow-ers,”’ mouthed Swing Tunstall, after the fashion of a child wrestling with the first reader. “Does Racey like pret-ty flow-ers? Yeth, he’th —crathy ab-out them. Ain’t he cute, squattin’ there all same hop-toad an’ a4workin’ away _ two-handed? Only he ain’t’a*workin’ now. He’s stopped workin’. He’s‘gettin’ all red in the face. He’s mad at Swing who never done him no harm nohow. Whatsa matter, Racey?” he added in his natural voice. “What bit you on the ear this fine an’ Summer day?” Adventure Racey looked over his shoulder toward the house. Then he got to his feet and strode across the garden to where Swing Tunstall sat his horse. “Swing,” said he quietly, just now?” . Swing, suspecting a catch somewhere, stared in swift suspicion. was his cautious reply. “Then go off some’ers an’ die.”’ Without waiting for Swing’s possible comment, Racey turned his back on his friend and walked unhurriedly to his horse, Cuter.. Swing slouched sidewise in the sad- dle and watched him go. He rolled a cigaret, lighted it, and inhaled luxuriously. And all without removing his gaze from Racey’s back. He watched while Racey flung the reins crosswise over Cuter’s neck, mounted, and rode down into the creek. When he saw that Racey, after allowing Cuter to drink nearly all he wanted, rode on across the creek and up the farther bank, Swing’s brow became corrugated with a puzzled frown. “fe means business,” muttered Swing. “T ain’t seen that look on his face for some time. I wonder what did happen here this mornin’.”’ His eyes still fixed on the dwindling west- ward moving object that was Racey Dawson and his horse, he smoked his cigaret to a butt. Then he picked up his reins, found his stirrups and rode away. Racey Dawson, bound for the 88 ranch- house, did not smoke. He did not feel like it. He did not feel like doing anything but facing Lanpher. What he would be moved to do while facing Lanpher he was not sure. Time enough to cross that bridge when the crucial moment would arrive. He knew what he wanted to do, but he knew, too, that he could not do it unless Lanpher made the first break. Otherwise it would be murder, and Racey was no murderer. “He’ll back down if he can, the snake,” Racey said aloud. “An’ he’ll be shore to slick an’ slime round till all’s blue. him, ridin’ over them flowers of hers!” Racey did not hurry. He had no desire to come up with Lanpher on the open range. It would be better to meet the man at his own ranch-house where there were likely to be plenty of witnesses. Racey realized per- fectly that he might need a witness, several witnesses, before the sun set. He hoped that all the boys of the 88 outfit would be ‘““‘Why-uh-no,”’ Gomicbooks “are you busy — (C@