Adventure Magazine Cover, February 3, 1921 — page 52: what you’re looking at

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

46 discourage any one who questioned ‘his superiority. His men were eagerly forming a circle, and their precipitate action gave him relief; for it took from him the responsibility of making a decision. The girl was slowly re- treating to her wagon. Natchez was danc- ing around the ring, his eyes flaming riot- ously, the lust for battle causing him to yearn for some affront; only he would never fight with his bare hands. With his confidence unshaken as to the outcome Shirley peeled off his flannel shirt, threw his belt of weapons aside and stood forth, a hairy behemoth of a man. The grunts of admiration rising from the circle caused him to entertain something of his old spirit, but he could not completely oust from his mind the suspicion that he was playing the other man’s game. With a howl of rage Reason suddenly seized California Joe, brushed him aside and demanded: ). “My meat! Git back, ye long shadder of @ man!”’ “Be ye crazy?” snapped Joe; and Reason read something in the challenger’s baleful glance that warned him to subside, although he would not cease his mumbhng. This incident brought a grin to Shirley’s face. Reason was afraid for his friend. It was a good omen. ‘The wagon-boss pre- ferred fighting the tall trapper to the short one. Laramie Pete climbed on a wagon-stead, placed two revolvers beside him and said: ‘‘Vessieurs, the best man will win. Each fights as he will. You will put all weapons one side. I will kill the first man who med- dles. Make the ring wider.” Shirley stared at him thoughtfully, won- dering what the slight smile meant. When the combat was first suggested the trader had displayed reluctance. Which was as- sumed, the hint of secret amusement, or the hesitance? Shirley’s mental processes were slow, but they were now arriving at the conclusion that he was being made game of in some fashion. However, a glance at the trapper, now divested of his buckskin shirt and belt, revealed no cause for worry. Only passably courageous where a knife or gun was used, the wagon-boss knew himself to be in his - true element when the issue depended upon brawn and beef and cruel tricks. Laramie’s cool smile and his eager, ex- Adventure pectant eyes were irritating, nevertheless. ' It offset his exultation at Reason’s desire to take his friend’s place. ‘I’m waitin’ to be slaughtered,” grinned Joe, stepping into the circle. Then, lifting a hand for attention, he demanded: “Tf I win out all ye men agree to stick by th’ wagons till we make Cherry Crick. Do ye all say so?” His finger swept from man to man, holding up each, until each had orally promised to abide by the out- come of the contest. “All right then. Laramie, no more fret- tin’ bout yer train. Come on, ye red sheep, an’ be hugged by ol’ grampa grizzly!” This boastful speech affected Shirley none; for it was customary for combatants to talk in hyperbole when describing their own might. Defiant speech couched in grotesque exaggerations was as ceremonial as the circle in which they fought. But Laramie continued showing his white teeth in a little smile of amusement. ©) was made, the last ridiculous boast loudly registered, and the circle held its breath. Faced by actualities, Shir- ley became all beast and forgot the thing gnawing at his peace of mind. With a wild yell he began circling his opponent. The yell was his reaction to race instinct, and was intended to function as the red man’s war-whoop, or the jungle beast’s scream or roar,.1s purposed; that is, in a paralysis of the enemy. “Save yer wind, ye poor fool,” advised California Joe, taking a long stride forward. With a howl of genuine rage Red Shirley rushed forward in his most efficient style of rough-and-tumble fighting, his knees flying up with force sufficient to knock the wind out of a mule, his mighty arms flying like pistons, his red head held low, his confi- dence superb, now that he tasted battle, that no harm could break through his bat- tering arms and fists. With a shrill screech that would have done credit to a cata- mount California Joe leaped three feet into the air, and was back on his feet by the time Shirley sprang forward to catch him off the ground and-off his guard. Shirley doubled his powerful arms at the elbow, his two fists meeting a foot from the thick chest, his purpose being to bear his opponent backward and at the same time NOW the last exchange of taunts CORMICLOOOKS (E@)