Adventure Magazine Cover — page 99: what you’re looking at

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

Lost Diggings to the road, the mare crowding at his heels. He recovered his revolvers and rode on. The theft of the pouch left him penniless, but he accepted it philosophically. There were one or two friends in Idaho City who would be glad to stake him. He spurred along to make up for lost time and kept a sharp watch for a likely spot for spreading his blankets. The mare suddenly shied as a man crashed through the bushes and yelled at him. Enraged at what he believed to be a second hold-up Hale slipped to the ground and rested an eight-inch barrel across the saddle and grimly announced: “T’ve just been robbed. I have nothing but this mare and guns. If you want them you must kill me.” “Don’t cry afore you’re hurt,” replied a voice which was slightly familiar. ‘No one has a call to throw a gun on Lucky Tom of Lost Gulch. I wouldn’t turn my hand over for all the gold west of the Rockies. I know where I can git it by the bushel. Friend, what I’d admire for to have is a drink. I’ll pay fancy for it. I’ve got a bit of fire in back here and a pan of bacon cooking. I heard your horse and hoped you might be packing something good for a dry throat.”’ “I’m packing nothing but guns, but I'll join your fire.” “Thought every one out of Boise packed whisky,” sighed the miner. ‘Well, come along and have some bacon and tell me about this robbery business. I laid down in here to rest and fell asleep, or I’d been in Idaho City afore this.” HALE followed him through the thicket to a small fire burning in a circle of rocks. A big frying-pan of bacon was simmering on a flat rock in the circle. The miner gave Hale one glance and thrust forward a hairy paw and ex- citedly cried: “Dawg-gone my old boots! If it ain’t the mountain-man that give me my chance to light out when I was in trouble! You’re more welcome then whisky, man. You’re white. What do you call yourself?” ‘“‘Shoshoni Hale.” “The Injun feller?” “They talk a lot of foolishness about me. I know some Indians. Have some good friends among them. They’re either for you or against you for the limit.” 89 “T don’t care if you’re full of Injun blood. You turned a good card for me. What they doing about it in Boise? Got folks scouting after me for killing that snake?” “Patterson, a gambler, buried the dead man and insists it was a fair fight. I don’t reckon there’ll be any trouble. But you’d better keep away for a while. The Boise City gang will stand up for you so long as they think you'll show them your diggings. Ben Riply’s down there talking vigilance committee to some of the merchants. Stay clear is my advice.” “That’s hoss sense,” muttered Lucky Tom. “Them vigilants are nasty some- times. Reckon I’ll drift to Centerville, or . Pioneer City, where I can finish out my drunk. Idaho City’s my first choice, but it’s too much like being in Boise. What about being robbed? Making game of me?”’ Hale related his experience with Jem Helm. Lucky Tom chuckled much to think how the outlaw had been taken in. Then looked grave and muttered: “Still I ain’t out of the woods yet. may jump me here.”’ “If he does we'll stand them off. I’m tired of being knocked about and abused,” rumbled Hale. “That’s good talk. Say, I’m lonely.” “Cash in your gold dust and visit the coast.” “IT mean I’m lonely as a hound pup. I need the company of a man I can trust. You assay out top-high. I’m going to take you in as my partner. It’s devilish lone- some up in Lucky Gulch.” “Yd be more of a bother than a help. Then I’ve got a heap of trouble of my own. For the next few months I'll be busy dodging knives in the back.”’ “You don’t say! Well, don’t talk less you want to, but my ears are burn- ing.” ‘Some one’s after me. a long time.” “Plug ’em! You seem to have a pretty gun-way with you.” “T don’t know who they are.” “You talk like you was me when I’m drunk. Folks you never knew chasing you around to do you dirt when you ain’t look- ing? Ain’t that be The miner was inclined to be skeptical. “That’s the truth of it. Lucky Tom snorted and sarcastically re- marked— He Been after me CGOMIGoOO S CO@ inn