Adventure Magazine Cover, October 10, 1921 — page 29: what you’re looking at

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

The Silent Captain | 7 19 Wilcox was not indifferent. He was only puzzled. The old question kept returning to his mind. “Why do they always pick on this ranch?” he asked Shay again. “T dunno.” “Were any other man’s cattle stolen?” “Not that I know of. This puncher, Johnny Silver, blew in here about nine o’clock with the news. That’s all I know.” “Tell me. Is it possible for three hundred animals to vanish from a well-kept herd?”’ “{ dunno. It’s accordin’ to how she’s watched. Mebbe on a windy night folks can cut out part of a herd anywhere, no matter how she’s guarded.” “All right,’’ nodded the boss. Later he talked with Steve Adams alone. The loss of the cattle disturbed him more than any one knew. With slim financial resources, with no experience in the cattle business, with dwindling herds and with vast acres to support, Grant Wilcox could ill afford many more reverses. “Adams,” he questioned, “would you let a herd be cut out from under your nose?”’ “Td try not to.” “Not even in bad weather?” “‘Well—if I had the right sort of men it’d be pretty hard.” ‘Suppose you had men who did not care?”’ The young man’s brow knitted. *“‘Are you sure of that?” “No. I am not sure of anything. only wondering.” “Um. Well, I wouldn’t like to have men around that didn’t care.’ “That’s what I am thinking.” Wilcox picked another cigar out of a box. “You are foreman. Use your own judgment.” “Me? Foreman?” “You know more about cattle than I do. You are young. You fight. Take charge.” The flabbergasted Steve Adams blinked. “Why—why I don’t know anything about this ranch!” “Neither do I. Neither does any one else, apparently. I want some one who is going to know.” Wilcox sat back and puffed a smoke- screen. He had made his appointment and argued it no further. “What are you going to do?” he asked, after a minute. ‘Discharge some of your night-riders?”’ Steve stared at the pattern on the blue Carpet. ; I am “No. Not till I collect some other riders.” “What is the use of keeping men you can not rely on?” It was a catch-question, but Steve’s an- swer was ready. “You can’t leave your cattle to wolves and buzzards!” The boss nearly chuckled. “Use your own judgment,” he grunted. “Where will you get your new men? In town?” “T don’t know. I’m not sure about that town. Why—say, Mister Wilcox, were you joshing when you talked about the boys from Montana?” The boss smoked some more. “T was then. I am not now. It looks like a good idea.” Steve mentally reviewed some of his husky young friends in the vast grazing lands from the Oregon to the Platte. “Thanks. I know the men you want. They'll come. Some of them will, sure. They want to travel anyhow.” “All right. Send for them.” LATER Wilcox and Steve started on horseback through the gale to ! look over the herd. They bundled in overcoats and chose the most direct route to the plains, bracing themselves against biting winds which hurled sand into their eyes. Wilcox did not announce Steve as his foreman when they reached the main herd. He made no comments or explanations to any one. With his coat-collar turned up, his hat over his eyes and the eternal cigar burning fiercely, he let the punchers talk. All tracks of the vanished herd were gone. The wind had literally scoured the ground with flying dust and sand. ‘“‘We will solve these mysteries,”’ grunted Wilcox on the long trip toward home. “Tomorrow I am going to start riding in a wide circle around the whole ranch. It may take days.” He pointed to the hills ahead. “Perhaps we will find places up there where the wind doesn’t get into so easily.” That night the boss kept a roaring fire in the old ranch house while the wind screamed outside and shook the doors and windows. Old Man Shay and the wounded Tupper were invited in from the bunk- house, to keep warm. It wasn’t the sort cConnicoooks C@