Adventure Magazine Cover, February 3, 1921 — page 45: what you’re looking at

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

hie Rca ta El Dorsde The Indians afoot desperately tore loose the thin grass and tossed the dust-like soil into the air and the breeze whipped it toward the wagons. The leaders of the mounted detachment now entered the rifle zone and began emptying bags of dust in front of them. Asa result only confused glimpses of the assailants could be obtained. With a carefully enunciated oath Reason stretched himself flat and fired into a dun- colored cloud. Without pausing to see if he had regist- ered he set about fire-loading. Joe waited until a caprice of the steady breeze blew a hole through the dust, when he fired pointblank at a huge silver cross hung round a warrior’s neck. The cross had been stolen from some Mexican church; and it proved bad medicine for the thief, for the bullet ended his career and sent him from the saddle. Dropping his rifle, Joe caught up the second gun and fired low, content to bring down a pony. Laramie Pete ran from behind the wagon and standing exposed, emptied a carbine into the dust. Natchez, at the girl’s behest, ran after him to drag him back to cover, but found the position exhilarating and remained to keep him company. Two hands shot from under the wagon and the foolhardy men found themselves dragged beneath the wagons, their ankles ach- ing from the pressure of the muscular grasp. Shirley shouted for help in managing the mules. Natchez and Laramie rolled from under the wagons on the inside and ran. to help control the frightened brutes. Now the gun-fire was general from all sides of the square, and one bullet clipped within a few inches of Reason’s head. “If th’ Injuns don’t git us them fools will,” he groaned. ‘“Lawd, for a good case 9’ small-pox!’’ He fired and shot a warrior through the thigh, but the wounded man clung like a leech to his mount and rode back out of range. Now the riders were flitting by on both sides of the square, firing from be- neath their ponies’ necks and riding so low that only the tip of a*toe could be glimpsed. “Take that painted one,” barked Joe. Reason accommodated him; and as the animal went down and the warrior started to run to ride double behind the nearest warrior, Joe picked him off with great neatness. The Indians, after riding by the selves credit. 39 train, wheeled and came back, but at a greater distance. Almost all the shots fired by the team- sters had gone wild, but Shirley quit the mules long enough to score a pony and wound a brave, and the enemy were begin- ning to have more respect for the besieged. Back they tore up the trail, and as they gave ground the men on foot retreated to safety behind the pines. ‘“*Rapahoes ain’t got much heart for it,” mused Joe. “All th’ Kiowas are mounted.” As the retreating nders flew down the trail two of them leaned low from their animals and caught up the dead warrior by heels and neck and bore him off. Joe crawled out from under the wagon and made an inspection of the square. Two men were wounded with arrows and one shot dead through the neck with a bullet. A huge ball from an old-time fusee had crippled a mule, and it was necessary to dispatch the poor beast. Joe returned to where Reason was keeping watch on the Indians and informed him: “Looks bad. *Rapahoes didn’t do them- But th’ Kiowas cut a notch for every one we cut. ’Rapahoes will do better next time. After they’ve chewed it over they'll see, we didn’t do th’ damage our guns oughter doner Hear them fools yap.” This as the trainmen raised a trium- phant shout and loudly told one another the Indians were sick of fighting and were retreating. Some of them even ran out in front of the forward wagon, defiantly dis- charged their guns at the foe and profanely dared them to come back and fight. ‘Awful high speerits when they think it’s all over,” sneered Reason. ee and scurried back behind the wagon. One warrior coming down the trail had been sufficient to send them to cover. He rode a pony that had imprints of the human hand painted on its chest and flanks in black, designating how the owner had thrown away his arms in battle to grapple with a foe, the most honorable coup he could count. ‘Medicine man!”’ snapped Reason, poking his rifle forward. Joe touched his arm and warned: “Don’t shoot. He’s wavin’ something white. Wants to talk. Keep me covered.” Saying this, he crawlec from under the SUDDENLY the bold ones turned CORMICLOOOKS (C@