Adventure, January 20, 1922 — page 147: what you’re looking at

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

Powder Law “That V would be for vigilantes,’ mused Blaze. “Did yuh ever hear of them, Frenchy?” Frenchy shook his head. | “They’re a bunch of fellers who takes the law in their own hands,” explained Blaze. “When the law can’t or won’t do the job right, then the vigilantes steps in.” “Mm-m-m,” mumbled Frenchy. ‘She’s hang de bad-man, eh? All de time she’s do no-ting to de good man?” “T don’t reckon they’re supposed to,” said Blaze. . “When de vigilante she’s hones’ man, she’s only tak’ away de bad-man, eh? Me, I’m mak’ t’ink she’s bad t’ing if de bad-man mak’ himself vigilante. W’at you. t’ink, Blaze?”’ | The crude wisdom of Frenchy had picked out the flaw of the vigilante system—a sys- tem which was efficient in bringing terror to outlawry in the old West, but which went beyond its intention and became the weapon of unscrupulous men, who used it to further their own ends. : “T reckon you’re right, Frenchy,” ad- mitted Blaze, after thinking over Frenchy’s words. “Maybe they won’t thank us for buryin’ their victim, bein’ as they kinda leaves ’em hangin’ around as a warnin’; but we'll take a chance.” They cut the rope. The man was well past middle-age, his hair and beard almost white. Blaze examined him closely. One of his legs lay in an unnatural position, and Blaze discovered that the man was a cripple. He examined the man’s hands and got-to his feet as Frenchy appeared with a shovel and a pick. | “Why you t’ink dey string him up for?” asked Frenchy. ‘‘Bad-man, you t’ink?” “He was a cripple, Frenchy.” Blaze spoke softly, as if afraid the dead man might hear. ‘His knee is all crooked and his hands are tied in knots from rheumatism. He couldn’t neither run nor hold a gun.” Frenchy turned away and began digging. Blaze watched him for a time and then picked up the shovel. | “my mak’ tink,” observed Frenchy leaning on his pick, “I’m t’ink ’m mad like for ‘de vigilant. Mebbe she’s de law, but jus’ de same es ‘He couldn’t run nor hold a gun,” said Blaze. “Me and you t’ink alike, mos’ always,” nodded Frenchy. 10 \ 145 Neither of them knew anything of the burial service. The victim of the vigilantes was rolled in an old blanket and buried beside the old cottonwood tree. The inter- ior of the cabin did not disclose the man’s identity. It was crudely furnished and did not show long occupancy. There was no sign of any firearms and the food supply was low. They fastened the door and rode on. The sun was an hour high when they reached a large stream of water flowing down a small valley. The stream was lined with willow and cottonwood, which cut a green gash through that sun-baked country. Several head of range cattle whirled out of the willows at their approach, wild as partridge. “We’re into the cow-country at last,” smiled Blaze, as they rode into the willows. Frenchy nodded. They followed a trail through the brush and drew up at the bank of the stream. . “Somebody mak’ de sign,’ observed Frenchy, pointing at a sign on a big cotton- wood, which grew near the bank. Blaze rode in close to the tree and read the notice aloud. Z WARNIN THIS LAND BELONG TO BLACK MORA NO BODY ALLOW HERE Frenchy snorted his disgust. “Shall we move on?” asked Blaze. “T’m mak’ de wet camp today,” declared Frenchy. “I’m no want Black Mora’s land—I’m jus’ want to camp. We stay.” “T’ve heard of him,” said Blaze. “A man in Deadwood told me something about him. Big cattleman, I reckon. Wants to run the country.” ‘““Mebbe de countree she’s no run,” grinned Frenchy, taking the swing-rope off the pack. “We tak’ chance.” Both of the men owned camp-broke horses and there was no neéd of hopple or picket-rope. The three horses moved up the stream, cropping at the green grass, while the men prepared camp. Blaze hap- pened to glance across the creek just in time to see a rider disappearing over a ridge. He was close enough for Blaze to see that the man was looking at their camp. “One of Black Mora’s spies,” said Blaze pointing him out to Frenchy, but the man: ? COmmiclboooks G (C@