Adventure Magazine Cover — page 187: what you’re looking at

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

The Camp-Fire two of us, and that settled it. I remember Hugh Pendexter came over from Norway some sixty miles distant just out of the kindness of his heart to give us more dope on this Maine Mundy and I were both so crazy about, sat on his heels at our fire one night and was gone early in the morning. Now— but I’m gassing terribly. In the next issue, January, 1912, the single page briefly introduced Adolph Bannauer and John A. Heffernan, of whom I’ve had no word for years; George Holmes Cushing, Arthur D. Howden Smith and Thomas Samson Miller. “As there are 3,000 miles between us, I still know Miller only by correspondence, but Smith, like ‘Mundy—no more gassing. It was not until our June, 1912, issue that “Camp- Fire” was opened as a regular department in addition to the page in the front of the book, that page being dropped later. It’s more than nine years now that we’ve gathered around the Camp-Fire. Here’s to many more such years. Well, I'll shut up now. Remember to be on the watch September 10, September 20 and September 30. We’re embarked on the new voyage of three times a month. Hs story in tHis issue was written very much from first-hand material, as the following letter from Stephen Chalmers shows: Laguna Beach, Calif. There is a great deal of fact behind this story. Most of the details of Leders’ adventure with the rattlesnakes happened to me at the exact spot and amid the scenery described, on Feb. 12, 1921, and four days later (yesterday) I wrote the adventure and its application in Leders’ case—at one sitting. HERE was a great deal of interest—I will not say excitement—around Laguna when people saw the dead snakes, noted their unusual size for this region in these latter days and considered the earliness of the rattlers’ coming from the rocks, which they don’t as a rule (around here) do until about April. But we had had two blistering days preceding, the second so hot that I struck my camp in E] Toro canon, it being too blazing hot for hunt- ing, and was on my way home when I A into the rattlesnake circus. I had the great advantage over Drders of a shot- gun and a fair skill in using it; but he had one ad- vantage over me in that I had a pack on my back, heavy with duffel and brush rabbits, also a roll of army blankets -sweltering about my neck. As the face of the hill where I struck the nest was of loose rocks and almost perpendicularly precipitous I was unable to set the packs down (they would have rolled to the bottom) and it was a case of shooting from the hip on account of the shoulder encumbrances. I8I And I wore that pack and roll all through that tedious hour under a sweltering sun and without water, for an empty canteen had conspired with the heat to end the hunt. But it should be clearly understood that I was up there to hunt bobcats and rabbits and had no idea of committing suicide.— STEPHEN CHALMERS. P.S. By the way, my alter ego, like Leders’, was talking to beat the band all the time. I have since concluded that the smaller snake is of the common variety, Crotalus confluensis, and the larger of the rarer red variety, Crotalus pyrrhus. ‘They are as described in the story, and no doubt some reader can confirm or correct.—S. C. es IS proposed and seconded that the ad- venturer whose picture appears below be made, both for himself and as a repre- sentative of all his tribe, an honored member of our Camp-Fire. Maybe those just be- hind him would feel happier if he weren’t given a front seat, but surely he deserves a place among us. Mount Illinois. Morris, Dear Mr. Hoffman—and the rest of the crowd: Here is a question—and I’m sure that there will be but one answer thereto: Even if an old trailer doesn’t talk about his adventures he is, as a rule, glad to join the circle about the Camp-Fire. In view of such’ desire, and rules of your own circle, isn’t he entitled to a seat in the crowd? I speak in behalf of the old trail-worn philosopher a sketch of whom is enclosed herewith. You will sure find him a good listener, as I have oftentimes, and his modesty, or backwardness (that last is double- barreled!) is surprising, considering the stirring times he has seen, and perhaps participated in. This particular mouse-colored beast of burdef has covered many weary miles of desert, inhaling alkali dust and scorching language; has seen some gun- fighting, not a little of death, and has surely under- gone the discomforts of hunger and thirst. It is with deep feeling that I mention that last, ’m here to tell you. And still he keeps his peace, a la Sphinx. All of you who have at one time or another tackled the desert have met up with Lodestone or one of his brothers—and all of you, while reminis- cently cursing his obstinacy, nevertheless there is a place in your heart held by this patient plodding littleanimal. So let’s consider him for a place in the sun—his kind is passing, along with George Catlin’s Gomichbooks (E@)