Adventure Magazine Cover, February 3, 1921 — page 41: what you’re looking at

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

The Road to El Dorado As the trappers drew near enough to be recognized for white men they waved their hats and advanced at a gallop. To their surprize the leading wagon came to a halt and was turned across the trail, while the remaining three were hurried up and ar- ranged so as to complete a square. Then came a spurt of flame, and a bullet whined high overhead. ‘“__. fools!” snarled Reason, pulling in his horse. “Do we look like Injuns?” California Joe had observed that the bullet traveled very high, and he took time to glance back up the ridge. To his surprize he beheld the forms of Indians moving among the scattered pines, some mounted, some afoot. Some wore silver trappings, which flashed bravely and ad- vertised them to be Kiowas. Others were Arapahoes, the trapper declared; and added: ‘Some whites have been raisin’ th’ devil with ’em. They’re out for blood. They was signalin’ for help an’ Kiowas went to ’em. They’ve been trailin’ us. Make for th’ wagons, Tommy.” Whipping their horses and holding their open hands high above their heads, they galloped down on the wagons and rode full tilt among them. Throwing themselves to the ground, they seized their rifles and crawled under the foremost wagon to repel an attack. But the Indians had vanished. As Joe stared at the ridge, knowing the red men were there but so cunningly con- cealed as to defy detection, a red-headed giant ran up to the wagon and yelled at the trappers: ‘Owe us two scalps. If we hadn’t woke ye up by shootin’ over yer blamed heads ye’d been wiped out. Pretty birds to be ridin’ loose in this country!” “My friend ain’t to blame for his looks, an’ he’s mighty touchy on th’ p’int,” Joe gravely informed the red-head as he emerged from under the wagon. “An’ speakin’ *bout a person’s looks, I don’t see anything so all-fired han’some ’bout yer face, stranger.” “Ye chaw any more words like ’em an’ I'll make yer teeth ache out on th’ grass.” California Joe tossed his rifle to Reason, who now stood behind him, and was re- moving his belt when a crisp voice broke In: “Messieurs! Messieurs! The shame to fight with yourselves!” 35 Joe wheeled and beheld a diminutive man, whose delicately molded features were destitute of beard and mustache and were the color of old ivory. This pallor was accented by the wealth of jet-black hair that fell to the shoulders. One glance and with a broad grin the trapper was extending his hand and greeting, ‘‘Laramie Pete, king o’ traders!” “Mon Dieu! Le Bon Joe! My old friend the brave California! My big babee boy! What you call it? Hoopala boy!’ He seized Joe’s big fist between his bands and shook it warmly. “Ye little weasel! . Sight of ye would cure warts. This feller’s Tom Reason, my partner. Good feller, but talks too much.” “The big babee’s friend! But yes. Good.” He clasped Reason’s limp hand and shook it heartily. Then he hurriedly ex- plained to the lowering giant: “Old friend of my. California Joe. And M’sieu Reasong. Ver’ big, brave men. My friends, behold Red Shirley. What: you calla boss. Boss of my train. I trade. I do not boss trains.” Red Shirley’s yellowish eyes revealed a warm desire to continue his quarrel with Joe. with saying— “Of course yer friends has to be made welcome, Laramie, but——” “But yes. It is true. It is my train. Head of a beaver! To meet them here!’ And again he shook their hands, and Reason edged away for fear of being kissed. “But I don’t hanker to see even yer friends come splurgin’ in when they’re bringin’ Injuns ahind ’em. I den’t give a tinker’s for myself, but there’s th’ young lady to think about.” “Young lady!” softly exclaimed Cali- fornia Joe, while Reason ducked his head and looked uncomfortable. ‘“A young lady! To be sure! But about them In- juns, red-head, don’t ye lose no sleep. After I’ve had a bite to eat an’ a snert 0’ something besides buf’ler-waller water I'll go out with Tommy an’ shoo ’em away. “They’re Kiowas an’ ’Rapahoes. Th’ first won’t want to stay long up here so far from their villages. *Rapahoes preb’ly mad - at something white men done to ’em in th’ mountains; but a talk an’ a few presents will sweeten ’em up.” COmmicloool< For the time he contented himself, (C@