Adventure Magazine Cover, February 3, 1921 — page 82: what you’re looking at

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

76 we hadn’t run into th’ Utes they’d ’a’ took their fightin’ to Cherry Crick, an’ some of our friends would ’a’ been rubbed out in the fuss. We'll strike for Clear Crick now.” The way was rough and they advanced slowly. They had covered about a mile when they were surprized to sight a mount- ed Indian riding toward them at reckless speed. Reason fingered his rifle, but Joe restrained him by saying— “’Rapaho a utile late in comin’ to th’ party.” “He’s a iedietue man,” said Reason, re- spect softening his gruff voice. ‘Been up in th’ mountains to make war medicine for this raid. Wonder what he uses.” The Indian saw them and swerved to one side as if to take to cover. Joe lifted an open hand and cantered forward. The Indian shaded his eyes with his hand, recog- nized the trapper and galloped ahead. When they met the Arapaho’s mount reared, his forefeet pawing the air, and the shield on the man’s back flopped around and over his chest as if by accident. He cried eut-= “Why is the trail closed against me, a medicine man of the Arapahos?” “The trail is very wide and very smooth. There is nothing to stop the mighty Arapaho . magician,” said Joe, backing his pony from the rough trail. “You ride the war-pony of a great chief,” suspiciously remarked the Indian. “Because I am a friend to the big chief. Did you think I stole it from him? I visit his village. I am made welcome. My pony was killed by Utes. Left Hand tells me to ride this war-pony back to his village. We have smoked together.”’ The medicine man was satisfied; not so much because of the trapper’s explanation as because there was no sign of the white men being pursued, which would have been the case had the pony been stolen from a war camp. Joe continued: “My friend and I killed many Utes in the cafion last night. They say you have made medicine against the Utes.” “Y was in the mountains, in a high place, from sun to sun. It was my medicine that killed the Utes last night,’ the medicine man proudly informed them. “He’s a liar!’ growled Reason. ‘“‘It was my snake medicine. An’ him tryin’ to hog th’ charms o’ my medicine!” Then maliciously— Adventure “Ask him when he got that hole through the rim of his shield.” The hole was never made by spear nor arrow. Joe pointed to it and put the question. The Indian flipped the shield behind him, his painted face scowling maliciously. He reluctantly explained: ‘““A white man’s long gun did that. If not for my magic he would have killed me. After we have cut off the heads of the Utes I will make a white medicine that will make. him wither up and die.”’ Joe’s éyes sparkled. Did you see him?”’ The Indian hesitated, then answered; “Tt was very faraway. I did not see him.”’ Saying this, he kicked his heels into the pony and darted away to overtake his friends. ‘“He’s a clumsy liar,’ mused Joe. “He spent the night high in th’ mountains an’ didn’t git started to overtake th’ band till sunrise. Th’ place must be very near here. I’m keen to see th’ white man that tried to plug him. None o’ th’ Cherry Crick men would be fools ’nough to kill a ’Rapaho.” ‘He must ’a’ been fired at after he came down th’ mountain this mornin’. Most likely while afoot,” said Reason. ‘‘Mebbe th’ cuss wanted to git his pony.”’ “Tf he come down th’ mountain an’ was shot at while jumpin’ on his pony it might be at a dozen different p’ints,” mused Joe. “If he’d told where it was s : “But he wouldn’t ’cause it was hitched up to his medicine,”, triumphantly broke in Reason. ‘Yes, siree! That’s it! Hitched up with his medicine; an’ he won't blat it to no one. If it wa’n’t that way he’d tell, hopin’ we’d find th’ feller an’ pot him.” ‘Where he went on th’ mountain would be a medicine place,’”’ pondered Joe. “But this feller wouldn’t be climbin’ mountains.” “Bet I’ve found th’ trail!’’ cried Reason, showing what for him was unusual excite- ment. ‘It was at th’ b’ilin’ spring. Bet he went there to make gifts to his medicine after he quit th’ mountain. Got off his pony an’ kneeled by th’ spring an’ th’ white man took a crack at him with a rifle an’ plugged th’ shield.”’ “We'll hit for th’ spring!” exclaimed Joe, taking his friend’s surmise as an inspiration. “Lordy, but ye’re a cute cuss, Tommy, when it comes down to guessin’ things! I know all bout that spring, an’ it never come into my head.” “Was it near here? ) CORMICLOO© (C@