Adventure Magazine Cover, February 3, 1921 — page 91: what you’re looking at

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

Thef Road to El Dorado piece of deer’s liver and with a short length of cord tied it to the end of his bow. Hold- ing the bow at arm’s length, he dangled the meat before the snake. There was a be- wildering flash of the vicious head forward and back. Reason hoarsely whispered— “Struck it twice!” The Indian gingerly examined the meat and after a few moments repeated the maneuver. It was not until then that he lifted his eyes and beheld the horsemen. Except for one brief yet intense glance he paid no attention to them, but proceeded with his sport of teasing the rattler. For several minutes the trappers watched the gruesome sport. The Indian, naked except for his breech-clout, his body daubed in spots with earth of a muddy color, some- how suggested the repulsive, mottled body of the snake. Nor was the serpent’s implacable ferocity of eye entirely lacking from the small orbs of the red man. As the cruel head, nearly bisected by the hideous mouth, darted for- ward to inject the deadly venom in the bait, the thin lips of the Indian parted and showed his teeth in a similar bestiality of purpose. “T can’t stand that,” growled Joe. And, shaking off Reason’s hand, he whipped out his revolver, and, waiting until . the Indian settled back on his haunches, fired and sent the rattler’s head spinning from the horrible body. ‘The Indian leaped to his feet and hurriedly wrapped the piece of meat in a fragment of deerskin. California Joe accosted him in Kiowa, then in Arapaho. If the Pit River man understood either tongue he gave no sign. ‘“Ask him where his coup-stick is,” sug- gested Reason. Joe pulled out his knife and with his rifle- stock gave a pantomime of cutting notches. The Indian watched him stolidly for a few moments; then snatched a short stick from the sand and triumphantly held it up for the white men to view. He gently rubbed his fingers over its smooth surface to call attention to the fact that the bark had been removed. It was a willow wand and there were no notches on it. Around his head the Indian wore a strip of soiled cloth to hold in place a dressing of leaves. Joe pointed to it. The Indian caressed it gently, then gave voice to a gut- tural howl and extended both arms toward, the sun. 85 “Head gittin’ well. Thankin’ th’ sun medicine,” murmured Reason. ‘‘Reckon he ain’t so crazy as he was,” mused Joe. ‘‘Reckon he must be remem- berin’ things *bout his fambly that Old Oakes an’ his friends wiped out.” “Which bein’ so I reckon Oakes is jest as safe as Half-Mask as he would be with this feller on his trail,’ added Reason. Hurling the forked stick to one side and throwing the basket after it, the Indian started off on a lope, making to pass around the town onthe north. The trappers rode on. They were several hundred feet from the wagons when they caught the sound of voices. Joe’s face drew down in sympathy. In a hysteria of grief father and lover were calling out the name of the missing girl. Laramie Pete, using his native language, re- peated the virtues of his daughter in a shrill singsong, and mourned her as one al- ready dead. Young Natchez, inside one of of the wagons, kept shrieking: “June! June! Come back to me, June!” Over and over he yelled this supplication. ‘““___! T can’t stand this!” gritted Rea- son. ‘‘Let’s git ahead an’ have it over with an’ git back to chasin’ that devil.” . He whipped his horse into a gallop and the two raced in among the wagons. THEY found Laramie seated on a robe near a smoldering fire, his arm in a sling, his pale face haggard and worn and his eyes wild with fever. On recognizing his friends he screamed: “Ma petitel Ma petitel” “We're goin’ to fetch her back,” soothed Joe as he dismounted. “Now, Laramie, stop that cat-waulin’ an’ listen to me. Th’ little gal ain’t been hurt none. Half-Mask an’ his men stole her to have a strong card to play if they ever git cornered. They want somethin’ to trade for their liberty if we ever git th’ drop on ’em. They'll be mighty careful she don’t git misused any.” ‘June! June! Come back to me, June!” called Natchez from a wagon. Joe lifted the cover and found Natchez stretched on a bundle of blankets. His face was flushed with the fire of a high fever. The stained bandage on his side had been torn from its place. The trapper. rapidly examined the wound, with Natchez pay- ing no attention to him. The assassin’s knife had been deflected to one side by the ribs and the hurt need not of itself be ° Gomichdooks Z (C@