Adventure Magazine Cover — page 169: what you’re looking at

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

The Sheriff “Nayw.’? “Who left the horseshoes?” Neither man spoke for 4 moment and then the big one said, “‘We dunno.” Brick rode in closer and examined the shoes. To all appearances one of the shoes kad come loose from the hoof, and the other had evidently been pulled off. “Yuh don’t know who owned the horse that wore them shoes?” “Nope.” The big man was very positive. “You two own the sheep?”’ “Kinda looks like we do. you'd like to ask?” “Uh-huh,” nodded Brick. ‘Lots of things I’d like to ask, but gettin’ a honest answer is a horse of another color.” Brick reached over and took the horse- shoes. “Mebbe I can double my luck,” he grinned, and tied them to his saddle. He swung his horse around and headed for the cafon. He knew there was no use trying to find out anything from the sheep- herders. He guided his horse into the brush, angling up the side of the canon. He had Anythin’ else traveled about three hundred yards from the cabin, and had just swung sidewise in his saddle to turn his horse to the left up the hill, when there came a thug, a yank at his belt, and from down the cafion came the whip-like pop of a rifle. BRICK threw himself out of the | saddle, pulling his Winchester out giva j from its scabbard as he went down. The brush masked him from the cabin now, and he investigated the effects of the bullet. A neat notch had been cut through the right side of the cantle of his saddle, and the bullet had ripped a chunk of leather from the inner side of his pistol holster. If Brick hadn’t thrown himself sidewise at the right time, the bullet would have ripped through his hip or thigh. Brick considered this and his blue eyes snapped. It did not appear that the sheep- herders needed his assistance to protect them from the cattlemen. He slipped down the hill and started angling down toward the cabin, when he caught a glimpse of the smaller of the two men coming cautiously up the hill. The man was taking no chances, but in- vestigating every inch of the brush in front of him. Brick grinned. The man felt sure 159 that he had killed Brick. _ He darted from one clump of brush to another, cutting the hill above Brick. He passed out of view. Brick watched closely. Finally the man reappeared, but this time he was more cautious. His head snapped from side to side and he fingered the trigger oi his rifle nervously. His nerves were almost gone. He had no idea of Brick’s whereabouts. He had shot and missed. Brick grinned. He knew just how the man felt. Suddenly the man’s nerve broke and he ran down the hill, jumping from side to side, as though. to disconcert any one trying to shoot him. Once he tripped and fell, flinging his rifle far down the cafion, but he did not stop to pick it up. Brick wiped the tear out of his eyes. The man disappeared, still running and limping. Brick got up and started for the cabin, but taking no chances on another shot from the sheep-herders. Then he saw the big man. He was across the cafion, nearer the cabin, standing there with a rifle in his hands. He turned toward the cabin, and evidently saw his partner. He turned and hurried down there, while Brick sneaked into the cafion bottom and came in at the rear of the cabin, which was well masked with brush. The two men were in front of the cabin and their voices were very audible. “ain't there, I tell yuh! notch in his saddle, that’s all.” “Vou’re a of a crack shot,” grumbled the other. ‘Never miss ‘em, says you. Shot with a rest, too, yuh did. Now what will we do?” “Git to out-a here,’ whined the other, which Brick recognized as the voice of the small man. ‘“Didn’t he say the sheriff was a shootin’ hound? I missed him, and he’s some’ers in that brush— Do yuh think I want him to line his sights on me?” “What about the sheep?” “Aw, the sheep! likely lose ’em, didn’t he? to lose ’em.”’ } “You shot too soon,” argued the big man. ‘“‘You’ve spoiled the whole deal. The sheriff was fallin’ for our game, but you spoiled it all.” “Him ?”’ in the little man’s voice. ““That red- headed hombre fallin’ for any game? Oh, of Sun-Dog Cut a He said he’d He can afford There was a world of scorn GOMIIGHOO S © in