Adventure Magazine Cover, October 10, 1921 — page 177: what you’re looking at

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

Solomon kaleidoscopic rush of colors, all the colors he had ever seen. They couldn’t be people— just puppets, jerking arms and legs worked by strings. He peered ahead but the hail from El Diablo’s hooves blinded him. He knew that the black was close, very close, but so must be the finish line. He swayed his body slightly with the hurtling leaps of the horse beneath him. The shouting of the mob was deafening. He held his hand be- fore his face as a shield. If he could only see! And then as though in answer to the wish the cutting sand and sharp-edged rock no longer struck the groping hand. He opened his eyes and peered through grimy lids. There within touch of his hand was the great black stallion, the boy Pasqual lashing the dripping heaving flanks with every labored leap. Like a flash of light Worthington’s mind cleared. The blurred side lines became people once more. right was only a horse—and Solomon be- neath him—was more than a horse. He leaned forward and whispered into the ear of the desert stallion. The finish line ap- peared to leap to meet the flying horses, but the rush of the great sorrel was swifter. ~ The reaching head and whipping mane showed beyond El Diablo—and Solomon thundered across the line half a length in the lead. eee IT had been a day never to be for- Sa gotten—the greatest rodeo Gila had » ever known. It was the talk of drawling sober tongues, and tripping, tipsy ones, for days. Never had there been such a race. Never had a horse won in the face of such odds. Solomon would go down in the Gila hall of fame as the horse of all time. A score of men had crowded forward with ready offers, foremost among them the - Don, whose offer of a thousand pesos and I] Diablo had been the source of never- ending comment. Contrary to all expec- tations the defeat of the black stallion had broken neither the Don’s purse nor his spirit. ~ It had seemingly given him a new interest in life—Solomon. But Worthington had ‘not wished to sell. He had mounted the desert stallion and ridden back to the daily round of duties at the Horse Shoe. The tired Black at his © -to the expectant Solomon. 167 “ THERE was a dance in Sleepy gis Junction. The Horse Shoe boys ‘= had disappeared in that direction, immaculate as to neck and ears, their laugh- ing banter mingling with the dust clouds that rose and hung over the swift moving horses. Windy, Big Bill, Chauncey, Chip, Stub; even old J. B., on the big iron-gray had joined the boys. Worthington alone remained. He did not care to dance, and further- more he was worried about Solomon. He had laughed off the good-natured warn- ings of the boys, who claimed to have seen more than mere envy in the black eyes of the Don, but there had persisted a feeling of uneasiness in his mind. As the little band of riders swept from view down the coulée, the man rose from his seat upon the veranda, whence he had waved a farewell hand to the noisily insis- tent punchers of the Horse Shoe. He sauntered leisurely toward the paddock beyond the blacksmith shop, and as he drew near a friendly nicker welcomed him. The big sorrel thrust his nose and twitching lips between the bars, jerking his head in impatient command that sugar be forthcoming. The man searched his pockets in vain fora moment. Then with the parting admonition, “Just keep your shirt on, Old-Timer,” he strode off toward the cook-shack. The door was closed. The man shoved it open and stepped within. “Wonder what’s become o’ Greaser Charlie. Sure he’s not off a-sparkin’ with the rest of ’em!”’ But Charlie was nowhere to be found. Worth rummaged about till he found the desired sugar lumps, filled his - pockets with a liberal supply, and returned Perched on the top bar, he lighted his pipe and smoked in peaceful contentment while the great stal- lion crunched the white lumps between even whiter teeth, tossing head and rippling mane a mute testimony to his approval of the state of things. The man turned suddenly from his dreamy study of the distant sandy plains, turning a dull gray With the gathering dusk. ‘Solomon, you’re sure a changed critter. Recollect back there in old Solomon Valley? Didn’t reckon you’d ever cotton to mie at all, did yuh? No, and to tell the truth, I had some doubts about it myself! But cComicoooks C@