Adventure Magazine Cover, February 3, 1921 — page 37: what you’re looking at

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

The Road to El Dorado “Lawd! Ye keep on with such sweet thoughts an’ ye’ll be fallin’ in love next. Wal, we'll let ’em come on; but I never shall admire that feller till I’ve put his light out. Better promise a feast to that medi- cine of yers, though. Th’ Injun’s may be heap big. Not that I’m any great shakes for snake medicine. To my mind a good buf’ler medicine has ’em all beat.” “T’ll make a feast,’’? mumbled Reason for the benefit of his rattlesnake skin. Then to his friend— “Them fellers come brushin’ along like they had all their three tazme gods with ’em. Let’s shoot.” He pushed the brown barrel of his rifle through the grass and waited for the leading Kiowa to draw a bit nearer. The other nine Indians began spreading out as if to encircle the hill, and then dismounted and began stalking the crest on foot. But the leader rode straight on after Old Oakes and his demented companion. Oakes’ face was now distinct, sallow and expressionless, his white hair snapping in the breeze, his right arm half-raised, re- volver in hand. The Indian rode with head bowed, his bow slung on his back along with the wildcat quiver of poisonous arrows, a stick and knife clutched in one hand. He sensed no danger, nor was he in any danger unless hit accidentally. Oakes may have remembered this, for he rode in front of the red man and frequently glanced back and as often shifted his position as the lone mounted pursuer swung to one side to get him in range. Gambler and Indian struck the foot of the hill and dismounted and began its as- cent on foot, leading their animals. The leader of the Kiowas decided he could make better progress on foot and likewise leaped to the earth, his pony following a few rods behind him. Now he began chant- ing, and by this the trappers recognized him as one of the Kazésenko. “He ain’t Sittin’ Bear, but he’s borrered th’ medicine arrer,” muttered California Joe, his finger itching to pull trigger and restrained only by Reason’s expressed desire to have the first shot. ‘See, he’s got th’ arrer hitched to his sash. Now he sticks it into th’ ground, meanin’ he’ll stick there when his friends round us up an’ drive us down th’ hill on to him. Wal, he’s a brave cuss, or else mighty sure of his medicine. Why don’t ye shoot?” 3I The last as the warrior anchored by the sacred arrow threw up his gun and sent a heavy ball into the sand within a few feet of the trappers’ faces. “Ale sees us. Shoot!” “Ffe’s sassy,’ murmured Reason, sight- ing the rifle and pulling the trigger. California Joe gasped in astonishment; then in deep disgust yelled: “Missed him all over! Go throw sand at that derned snakeskin!” Reason rubbed his eyes and stared in great bewilderment. He was a dead shot and jealous only of his companion. The range was an easy one for him. He realized the tendency to overshoot when firing down from an elevation, and had guarded against it. He considered the Kiowa a dead man the instant he pulled the trigger; and there the Indian stood, making insulting gestures. ‘“‘____! He must have a reg’lar Hawkins medicine!” mumbled Reason. Then as one who is inspired: “Tt’s th’ Pit River Injun’s medicine helpin’ him! Red medicine will help red ag’in’ white medicine every time. th’ Pit River Injun!” “Blame yer snake an’ not that poor devil. Let’s see if his hoss is proof ag’in’ this medicine,” wrathfully cried California Joe, throwing forward his heavy rifle and firing. The wizard’s pony fell as if struck by lightning. 3 “He ain’t got no medicine,” exulted Joe. “Watch this,” begged Reason, taking careful aim at the man’s chest and firing. The bearer of the sacred arrow tossed up his hands and Reason gave a loud guffaw of triumph. But the man did not fall; he simply continued tossing his arms and breaking into a new song. “Joe, I couldn’t ’a’ missed,” whispered Reason. “I jest couldn’t ’a’ missed; an’ ye know it.” The Kiowa turned and beheld his pony down, and with a yell of rage pulled up the medicine arrow and began climbing the hill. Joe fired and was positive the bullet struck over the heart, yet the fellow came, on. “No, Tommy, ye didn’t miss; an’ I didn’t,” groaned the trapper. Oakes, who had turned to one side to give his unknown allies clear range, now discharged his revolver without effect. By this time the nine Kiowas were getting CORNICLOO© S Shoot. (C@)