Adventure Magazine Cover, February 3, 1921 — page 71: what you’re looking at

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

The Road to El Dorado THAT evening California Joe “v9. strolled around the town and took in the sights. A noisy group from Auraria was patronizing Laramie’s bar, and, together with Denver’s bibulous, was keep- ing the proprietor and Old Missouri on the jump. Natchez helped during the first of the rush, then stole away to the wagons to be near his sweetheart. ‘Tom Reason, abhor- ring a crowd, was there, a willing captive to Miss June’s musical voice. Joe halted before the gambling-shed, \ and the men, having heard of the feud between him and the gambler, wildly scattered in an- ticipation of gun-play. ‘The two stood facing each other. Oakes stared malevolently, his two hands closed over a deck of cards, but quick to dart to the concealed revolvers if a hostile move were made. Joe smiled grimly and raised his right hand, palm out, then turned and slowly walked away. “He don’t want none o’ yer fight, Oakes,” cried Bandy Benton. Joe heard and pivoted on his heel, his face aglow at the prospect of trouble. But be- fore he could take a step toward the group sheltering his cxitic, Oakes cried out: “You are a poor, drunken fool. Make sure of this: you don’t want any of his fight. The game is open, gentlemen.”’ Restrained by a generous sense of humor, Joe strolled to the tent by the cottonwoods, intending to pass a word with Laramie, find the bottom of one dipper and then go ‘back to the wagons. He waited until there was a lull in the trade, when Laramie Pete pushed forward a drink and murmured: “Five thousand brought back from the camp of wagons. I have it here behind the bar. It goes with me to my wagons when I close up. M’sieu Oakes was ver’ glad to help M’sieu Kitts get it back for me, “T lose five thousand. Itisto weep! But I save five thousand. I must feel I have my satisfy.” “Kitts is all right, but that Oakes is a snake. He’d ’a’ pouched th’ whole ten thousand if he’d ’lowed he could git away with it. He helped git it back because he was fraid there’d be a fight an’ in th’ wind- up he’d be run out o’ town. He’d rather pay five thousand out of his pocket then to have his game stopped. Don’t waste any thanks on that critter. “Wal, Dll be goin’ back an’ see th’ little lady. If I hang round these diggin’s any 65 longer [’ll be combin’ that white-headed Injun-murderer’s ha’r. So Tom ’n’ me will be pullin’ out ’bout tomorrer.” Laramie did not protest against this early leave-taking. His agreement with Kitts pushed Joe and Reason to the background of his thoughts. He was truly grateful for all the aid they had given him, yet he was a trader; and gratitude could never proceed to embarrassing lengths in his game. As Joe walked toward the foot of the sand-hills the men from Auraria exploded in a climax of high spirits, fired a few guns without doing any harm, paused to lose their money at faro, then suddenly decided to return to their side of the creek and call it a night. After their departure the night became less hectic. Oakes continued dealing to a fairly orderly crowd. His Indian sat by his side, cutting the cards on each deal and notching his stick. Laramie took his bag of gold, and, leav- ing the bar in charge of Old Missouri, wan- dered to the gaming-place. More as an ap- preciation of Oakes’ influence in recovering the gold for him than frem any desire to play he risked a few geld-pieces. He pur- posed losing a few hundred dollars, but in- stead ‘of losing he won. Somewhat dis- gruntled at taking money from the man who had been instrumental in forcing a par- tial restitution, he staked all his winnings and felt relieved on seeing them cross to the opposite side of the counter. On returning from Hell-on-Wheels Lara- mie had left his horse hitched outside the tent. He tied the bag of gold to the saddle- horn and led the animal toward the wagons. He had nearly reached the wagons and was circling a small sand-hill when a man rose directly in front of him, poked the barrel of a long pistol into his face and hoarsely whis- pered: “Stick up yer hands! Make a sound an’ T’ll blow yer head off. Now stand still’ As he spoke the outlaw reached forward with his left hand and cut the rope holding the bag. “Now take yer nag an’ move on mighty pert,” ordered the outlaw. “Oui, m’sieu. But pardon. Are you the Half-Mask?” politely asked Laramie, striv- ing to glimpse the fellow in the opaque darkness. “Bull’s-eye first shot,” growled the out- law. “But move along. I wanter see yer COMmicloookKs EO