Adventure Magazine Cover, October 10, 1921 — page 165: what you’re looking at

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

Solomon 155 NEYY MEXICO SieePy Junction $ i! terran.” x 2 Cow's” 2 yo} ‘it oll WNewcee, i) ) 2) t) ‘Sy ) MEXICO He pushed the roan to a faster pace, and as he paused at the top of the last rugged slope—there was Solomon, less than a mile out upon the mesa. Then began a killing test of endurance. For a time the stallion held the lead, then the ever watching man noted signs of increasing lameness. Little by little the lead dwindled to three-quar- ters, then to a half—and Solomon’s un- easiness grew with each backward glance. His sorrel coat had darkened to almost black and dripped sweat. He was streaked with lather and each step brought with it twinging pain. No sand lay upon the mesa. The smooth surface was hard as granite. In vain the fleeing, tortured Solomon searched for signs of broken country that would lead down off the hard rock tableland and afford the relief of soft sifting sand. Worthington, too, swept the mesa for signs of green that should lead to the wel- come water-hole. Then his gaze returned to the fugitive horse—rather, to the spot where he -had been. He looked again— squinted, shading his eyes with his hands. Solomon had disappeared as suddenly and completely as though swallowed up. The mesa stretched on, unbroken but there was no signs of the horse. “Mighty peculiar, eh, Boulder? I'll say it is! Never been this far south—all new : *Sotonon “dy VALLey * to me—but there must be a rift o’ some kind in the mesa out there.” The man paused a few moments, then pushed on toward the south and the point at which Solomon had disappeared. The mesa rose somewhat as he rode. Horse and rider topped a gentle rise and slid to an abrupt halt. ' There at the roan’s very feet opened a jagged gorge, leading, twisting, deep down into the bowels of the great rock mesa. The imprints of countless unshod hooves, coming and going, intermingled in the floor sand of the gorge, but clear-cut and fresher than the rest were the tracks of the desert stallion. The man whistled softly— : ‘Some hole, eh, Boulder? The Lord only knows where she’ll lead to, but we gotta see the other end of it.”’ He patted the roan’s neck reassuringly and horse and rider began the descent. Per- pendicular walls of rock rose sheer on either side, and as they pushed deeper the light diminished. While it had been broad day- light at the top it now seemed as though dusk had settled. Then rounding a shoulder of jagged brown rock, bright sunlight greeted the blinking man and horse. The mouth of the gorge opened wide, the rock walls separating as they stretched Ccomicoooks C@