Adventure Magazine Cover — page 153: what you’re looking at

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

The Rabit of the Charleston, and then flaunted the Stars and Stripes before old Isuan until they teased him into letting a volley go after thim. Result, forty-sivin bursted breechbloeks on forty-sivin Krags, forty- and forty-sivin sivin wounded gu-gus, ( bs xX Ez — Regn A, Sor — SSS | .~ sina = SAWS ye id fy, Nw aN SN “sets f ‘ ! ‘ Ser ae y i ; “ ' fy € ; SS ay / ote \ ko > = ' { /; NV Wp} . = = Sa ie See ee —_—- “ e a : et Se =) d LY, = ~~ — q oe vA — y 4 , colonel! J i Ly Uj Lo ij \ y y hy ai - Sc 147 days in the guard-house for the pair o’ thim, And why the guardhouse? Man alive jist to teach thim to invite Cld Spud to their next party! Here’s to Privit Morey, him, he’ll be the dith o’ me nixt, the pair o’ thim.” UY Mle ped Zu (f ed bss cf C7) Author of “The Supreme Court Goes Fishin’,” “Lure of the Lode,” el EDERS sat on the face of the é ch sunlit rock, a shiny, new-blue automatic pistol idly clasped in the hand that drooped between his knees. His eyes were fixed, rather un- seeingly, upon a rabbit which had come out of the low brush and, seeing the man, or doubtful if this still object was indeed a living thing, sat perfectly still, ears up, and soft round eyes timidly alert. The thoughts of the man were far from the subject of rabbits. If they momentarily lingered on the little bunch of brown-and-. white fur it was with the attention to triv- ial detail which is a peculiarity of mental tension. Yet the mind of Curzon Leders was curi- ously calm just then—calm, remote, iso- lated in the vastness which surrounded him and this top-o’-the-world spot where he had chosen to+think it over finally. Had he been a religious man—which he was not—he might have considered himself alone with his God. Had he been irrelig- ious—which he was not, either—he might have added, ‘“‘and a rabbit.” He was so near and yet so far from the scene of that matter which had cost him nights sleepless to the point of madness brought oddly disfiguring lines to his eyes and mouth-corners and faded the coloring of the hair at his temples. So near and yet so remote from Los An- geles, the existence of which was marked be- yond distant, low hills by an oval smudge of industrial vapor against the blue skies. Yet Leders had only to turn his head and see, far-to the southeast, the dim bluff of Punta Loma by San Diego; for theré was nothing to obstruct his view from this hilltop for from twenty to a hundred miles in any direction. “Tt’s like the jumping-off place,” he had said to himself when he came to the rock where this great, circular vista suddenly opened out. “It’s what I would have wished—the kind of place I hoped to find.” To his left, running parallel with the coast hills, was the great, blue blister of the Pa- cific. It was broken by the rough silhouette of Santa Catalina Island which looked like a drifting bit of crushed brown paper down on the western horizon. At his immediate right the hills fell away into the vast, green valley of the Mission * Viejo, where here and there were spattered. S CORMEIOO COl