Adventure, January 20, 1922 — page 150: what you’re looking at

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

148 hills were still swinging around as if to join forces with those at the creek. “They’ve headed us off in that direction,” observed Blaze, ‘‘and it appears to me that they’re danged awful sure that we want to go thataway. Well, we'll take a chance and go up the creek instead. We may have to lose our pack-horse.”’ “My blanket she’s on de pack, and I stay wit’ my bed,” declared Frenchy. ‘De pack- horse run lak ——. Come on.” THEY turned and spurred into fey 2 gallop, traveling parallel to the * creek, but in open country. There were six men in the bunch which had cir- cled them, and five more in the crowd at the creek. Now they joined and came racing up the same side of the creek. Both Blaze and Frenchy were well mounted, but the pack-animal, seeming to sense the need of haste, passed Frenchy, who was leading it. “Go so fas’ as you like!’ yelled Frenchy and threw the rope across the pack, turn- ing the animal loose. “They swung over a knoll and around the side of a steep slope, jumping mesquite and greasewood, and found themselves a short distance from a rambling ranch-house, which stood in the center of a clearing about three acres in extent. A long low stable and a big pole corral were between them and the house, and a pole fence sur- rounded the house and barn. The center pole of the bars was in place and the pack- animal tried to jump it, but the horse was not built for hurdling and came to grief. Blaze’s horse cleared the bar and the struggling pack animal, and Frenchy’s horse barely clicked the rail as it went over. The pack-animal struggled to its feet, kicked at a loose rope and galloped after its master. Blaze and Frenchy swung down at the door of the ranch-house, turning the horses loose, and then went straight toward the open stalls of the barn, as if they had lived there all their lives. Came a whirl of dust and the panting horses, as the pursuers clattered up to the bars. Blaze threw up his rifle and sent a bullet past their heads and they spurred to one side out of sight. Blaze kicked open the door, almost in the face of a fat Indian squaw, who was coming to the door to see what was going on. She stared blankly at the two men. Adventure “Whose place is this?’ asked Blaze. “Black Mora,” replied ,the stolid abo- rigine. > Where is he? “T dunno. He ride away with men.” The squaw spoke in halting English. ‘This is going to be a hard place to leave,” observed Blaze, but Frenchy was chuckling as he leaned over a rough table. “Look, Blaze!” he called. ‘‘Here’s plenty shell for de rifle. Fill up de belt and use de pocket for de rest. She’s good place to fin’.” Blaze stepped over to the table and filled his belt from fresh boxes. Frenchy stuffed his pockets full and then put more inside his shirt. “Ba gosh, she’s goin’ to be wan good fight, I’m tell you, Blaze.” Blaze stepped to a window and saw a man running to get behind the barn. Another was stooped low, running farther to the left where another old building would give him cover. Blaze looked around the room, which was about twenty by thirty feet in size. There were four doors, two opening outside, and the other two were connected with the rooms at each end. All the doors were fitted with heavy bars. It was only a moment’s work to throw the bars into place. The squaw watched Blaze, but her fat face expressed no emo- tion. The strange doings of the white men did not cause any wonder in her one-idea brain.. Blaze grinned at her lack of interest. “You like Black Mora?” he asked. The squaw glanced at Blaze and then spat disgustedly. “Either she hates him or she don’t like my question,” grinned Blaze. The windows, of which there was one at each side of the room, were composed of two small panes of glass set in crude frames. Frenchy dumped the extra cartridges onto a shelf near the rear window, placed his pistol beside them, and calmly knocked one of the panes of glass out. Then he produced his plug of tobacco and clasp-knife and then grinned at Blaze, who was looking at the squaw. “Blaze, you better knock out de little window and git ready for fight. Plenty time for de love-mak’ after de wil’ man she’s - went away. Ho, ho, ho!’’ Frenchy chuckled heartily over his crude joke. Blaze went back to the window and poked out one of the panes, only to have a bullet | eCOrmmiclbooks (C@