Adventure Magazine Cover, October 10, 1921 — page 25: what you’re looking at

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

The Silent Captain thunder. A swirl of acrid powder-smoke arose. Then both men yelled. Tupper lurched backward, holding his shoulder and cursing. The other leaned forward, grabbing his right hand and swearing louder. Their pistols had fallen to the floor. Five minutes later Tupper’s perforated right shoulder was being dressed in the rear of the place, with the town doctor working over him. The wound was painful but not dangerous. Tupper was in fine feather, voicing loud opinions of his late enemy and explaining over and over again about how he had deliberately shot the man in the hand and ‘disarmed him. “T didn’t want to kill the pore idjut,”’ he bellowed. “I’m tender hearted, I am. When it’s nec’ssary I shoot to kill, but I wouldn’t kill no pore, low-down, mis’able half-wit like him! No, sir! Let’m live, says I. I keeps my real shootin’ eye for them that I has to be rough with!” A little later, when the crowd had gone, Grant Wilcox approached the wounded man. The quiet boss had decided to make amends. Things had gone far enough. “You had better come home with me,” he suggested. Tupper looked amazed. “Whore Me? Huh! me!”’ “T will be the judge of that. at ten tomorrow morning.” The big cow-puncher stared into the steady eyes of the silent man from the cities. Behind that calm gaze Tupper saw something inexorable. This man “had his number.” ‘Tupper averted his glance to the ground. You don’t. want We start V ‘All right—boss!”’ TUPPER was now amenable; but Ci his previous gossip had spread un- pleasant rumors, as Grant Wilcox learned while rambling around the town. To Wilcox the place was a revelation. . He had read descriptions about the wild | and woolly West, but cold actuality was even more grotesque than the accounts. He took dinner in the Red Dog restau- rant. He encountered persons known to fame as Two Gun Phil, Three-finger Jake, I5 Cold Deck Toombs, Six-shooter Ike, Hair- trigger Bill, and the like. He met citizens who had just had a brush with Indians, and learned that a sheriff’s posse was run- ning around wildly after bandits who had robbed a train. | Almost every male person swaggered about with six-shooters and jingled with spurs. The main street was vivid with amazingly colored pinto ponies and the - ornate costumes of certain cattlemen, not to mention the dazzling blankets of Navajo, Apache or Zuni Indians who loafed on every porch. To add to the picture, a troop of blue- clad cavalry swung through with clattering hoofs and jingling sabres during the after- noon on the way to the fort. The flaunting red-and-white guerdon proclaimed that the outfit was Troop E of the Second Regi- ment, while an abundance of yellow stripes on blue legs advertised the presence of many officers. Wilcox gave the parade a close inspec- tion. Suddenly he yelled. “Jimmy! Jimmy Kane!’ | A stalwart captain on a bay horse looked around, saw Wilcox and halted uncertainly while the troopers trotted past. The ranch-owner strode forward. The captain shouted. “Grant Wilcox, by all the gods! With a beard! What in thunder are you doing here?” “T am a rancher,” explained Wilcox, as they shook hands. “Rancher? You? Why—I thought you were in Hongkong or some place.”’ Wilcox was talkative enough with an old friend. . “No. I inherited a big place here. I am staying on land. Took a job in a rail. road office for a while. I couldn’t stand the sea any longer.” “T heard about it,’’ nodded the officer. “The wife was—she was drowned, wasn’t she?”’ “Yes. More than a year ago. want to see a ship again.” “T don’t blame you. Let’s see—you are the last of the family now, aren’t you?” I never “Ves. Old Ed was in the Seventh with Custer. Roger went to the Point with you.” ‘“T was with him in New Orleans when he died,”’ reminded the captain. “T know. Little Harry went into the cComiclboooks C@