Adventure Magazine Cover, October 10, 1921 — page 58: what you’re looking at

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

48 The ranchman by twos and threes started for the valley with Wilcox in the lead. The valley was a sight. Dejected cow- punchers stood amid shattered horses and prone men. Down toward the pass was a welter of horses and riders who had tried to cross the barrier. Bullet and hoof had done their work. It was a holocaust. The ranchmen ringed their prisoners with a wall of armed men. The range- riders huddled together. In the center of the mass was Curry, whose forehead was red from the crease of a bullet. He swag- gered forward. “IT reckon it’s me you want!” he an- nounced. “T want all of you,” grunted Wilcox. “You ain’t got no reason to hold these other fellers!’’ | ‘We will let the courts decide that. There are charges against nearly all of them.” g).| THE men took Curry and bound Ps his hands, later attending to the AXSHM1 others. Wounded men were tended and two suffering horses were shot. Most of the range-riders were wounded, and there were six who would never rise again. Curry watched proceedings with a sar- castic smile. : ‘‘Just what are you goin’ to do with me?”’ he questioned. ‘‘Do you think you’re the law of the state, Wilcox?”’ ‘“‘No. You will meet the law of the state later. You will answer for the murders of John Hastings and George Minden. I think there are other charges also.”’ Curry seemed to awaken and realize his plight. He strained at his bonds. “You'll never hang me!’ he shouted. “Vl kill myself first!” - Wilcox turned on his heel indifferently. His pity went to Hastings, Minden and all the men Curry had harmed. A cavalry officer on a big bay charger rode down the hill at the head of several officers. He waved a gloved hand to Wil- COx. ‘“‘We had a good practise-ride, captain!” he chuckled. ‘‘Your tactics were perfect! I have never seen anything better!”’ “Thanks,” said Wilcox, embarrassed. The editor rushed up and grabbed his arm. The editor was itching to get his fin- gers into ink again. He was thrilled with dramatic fervor. “Strike!” he pleaded. “Strike while the Adventure iron is hot! Strike now! Move on the town! Clean it up! Scatter the crooks! Start now while you’re organized!” Wilcox looked around him. The cattle- men were watching him, ready to take his orders, giving him recognition as their leader and forming a compact force under his hand. The quiet stranger from the cities —the drunkard, the woodenhead, the tar- get for editorial jibes—was the supreme power on the range. The quiet boss for once agreed with the editor. “Back to the horses. Start for town!’ THE taming of the town was a sim- ple matter and almost without dramatics. Certain persons left hurriedly and the decent element took charge. The town’s worst citizens were gone anyhow. Curry and his allies were turned over to a startled sheriff who could hardly believe his eyes. At first the prisoners were herded into the small jail and guarded by a big posse; but after the courts muddled through the long processes of justice the prisoners were scattered. Some went free, some went to the penitentiary, a few even escaped; but they never appeared on the range again. By the time the courts were through, new conditions had dawned on the range and their heyday was over. Those who were finally freed had lost nerve and prestige. Curry and some of the others paid the ex- treme penalty. With the gangs paralyzed forever, Wil- cox returned to his ranch-house and took up his quiet life, waiting patiently for the mis- tress of his domain. He had only one war to quell now, and that was the strife be- tween Tupper and his new father-in-law. Tupper finally gained a sour benediction and peace reigned. Came a day when a faded little woman stepped off an overland train. Wilcox went to town that day in a buckboard, un- accompanied. He wanted no audience. This was his day and his alone. Next morning, before the sunshine grew hot, they started on the long ride toward home, over hill and valley and plain, with the clear air fanning their cheeks and a well- matched team thrusting the miles behind them. There was much to be said. The ride was all too short. Finally they came to the rim of the hills cConmnicloooks C@