Adventure Magazine Cover — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

A Pot of Gold 9 anti-climax. Though perhaps mortally hurt he just sat thereand stared with a malevolent glare that even pain could not efface. Tom collected the weapons and unslung his canteen. The virulent stare made him irritable. ' “Let me-see that wound,” he snapped, leaning forward and pulling the shirt apart. ‘“You—buncoed—me,” charged the little gunman between gritted teeth. “T had to.” The other grunted sardonically and re- laxed, allowing Tom to lave the powder- burned wound in his chest. Though losing strength rapidly, the little bandit kept a baleful silence that was grimmer than threats. Tom understood. He had duped a pro- fessional killer and shot him with his own. gun. It was unforgivable. Tom saw the ugly portent for the future, yet he bound up the wound and gave the man every at- tention in his power. Half an hour later a big prospector was toiling over the top of the mesa, holding a small, limp figure in his arms. A vulture wheeled far above in the blue, but soon lost interest and went onward. 3 An hour later the same two human figures came down the slope of a dun mountain and were lost in the foothills, where dusk enveloped them. Later the exhausted Tom staggered into camp and tossed the burden on his blankets. Then began a long battle for a worthless life. It lasted all night with the ravings of fever turning the quiet camp into bedlam. Dawn brought comparative quiet. Tom gathered all the weapons and staggered, blear-eyed, to a sheltered bunch of mesquite where he slept as if stunned. Some time later mysterious footfalls awakened him. He peered through the brush to see a rough-looking man arrive with two burros laden with camp equip- ment and prospector’s implements. ‘Later he awoke again. A similar outfit passed, led by a hairy red-shirted man. Tom sat up and rubbed his eyes. He had never come across more than a few prospectors in a month. Now he saw two within an hour! He looked westward across a low plain. A man and a burro were drawing near. Beyond them came another outfit and far away he could see two more. “It’s a rush,” he gasped. - ‘“They’ve heard about our strike. Finley has talked.” If Finley talked, whom did he talk to? His own gang! Instantly Tom appraised these newcomers. They were not regular prospectors. They were too tough-looking. Tom was in a trap. He was half a mile from his camp, but he could look down upon it. The new arrivals reached the water- hole and discovered Finley. Their voices were highly excitable. Their coming was prearranged. The lit- tle killer had mobilized his clan and had gone ahead of them. But why was he willing to listen to Tom’s proposition on the mountaintop before Tom shot him? There was only one an- swer. The little scoundrel was willing to betray his followers if there was enough in it for him. - Tom now fully realized what sort of men he had to deal with. His present position was untenable. They had the water-hole. Gathering up his weapons, slipping ‘toward camp and sneaking out a half-filled canteen that lay in the brush behind Finley, he stole through the mesquite and started under the noonday sun toward civilization. As he hiked along his lonesome path, can- teen over shoulder, gun at hip and hat-brim pulled down against the rays of the sun, the rhythmic clomping of his high-topped sur- veyor’s boots seemed to beat time to cer- tain grim words running through his mind insistently. In reaching for his canteen in the mesquite he had overheard the little gunman screaming his half-delirious com- mands— “Git that feller if you take a year!” Tom had ached to make prompt retort; but there were six men at the camp. The odds were too great. He kept on going. - II 4a hee town of Escalante comprised six sa- loons, two dance-halls, two stores, a warehouse, a blacksmith-shop, a post-office, seven residences, three wells, a tree, two cows, thirty-five burros, seven respectable citizens, a doctor, fourteen bartenders, twenty-six professional gamblers and about two hundred miners, stage-robbers, cattle- men, drunkards, sheep-herders, gun-fight- ers, ranchers and other itinerant citizens who made the money for the gamblers, bartenders and doctor to collect. COmiclbook C©