Adventure Magazine Cover — page 25: what you’re looking at

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

The Spark of Skeeter Bill ‘““We’re goin’ to make these thieves around here danged hard to catch.” The judge swallowed with great difficulty, and watched the man walk away. He shut the door, stumbled back to his bunk and sank down. ‘Vigilance committee!” he gasped aloud, and then added, ‘‘Lookin’ for Skeeter Bill.” He picked up the empty jug, hoping against hope that it contained something beside an odor, but cast it aside, after hold- ing it unsteadily over a tin cup. He looked at his watch. It was eleven o’clock. Where was Skeeter Bill? Maybe the vigilantes had already found him. The judge groaned aloud at his inability to do anything, when prompt action was needed. He lifted his wadded pillow and disclosed two big Colt pistols. At least he could ‘help a little, he thought. His hand trembled with the weight of one of them, the barrel describing irregular circles. He laid the gun on the bed and shook his head. “‘T’m a menace to myself,” he said aloud. ‘Not even able to hold a gun. As God is my judge, if I ever get over this—I’ll very likely do it all over again. [ Js He stopped talking aloud to himself and stared at the floor. Again he looked at his watch. “Five hours!” he grunted hoarsely. “Five | hours they gave us to get out. Where is Skeeter Bill? Have they killed him?” The judge almost squeaked that last question, but the bare walls of the shack did not even echo a reply. He got to his feet, found the remains of an old derby hat, an old Prince Albert coat, faded and torn. Fully attired he looked at himself in a bro- ken mirror. For a moment he stared at the reflection, and with a sweep of his hand sent the glass crashing to the floor. His hand went to his eyes and he stumbled toward the door, where he stopped and looked back. “Oh, wad some power the giftie gie us, to see oursel’s as ithers see us,’ he quoted bitterly. ‘Seven years of bad luck for breaking a mirror. Judge Tareyton, you’re a disreputable old reprobate! By gad, sir, you are not fit to wear a steel bill and pick food in a barnyard with the chickens. I re- peat, sir; you disgrace me. I wish ‘4 Came the sound of footsteps on the hard ground outside. For a moment the judge hesitated. There was not the slightest doubt but what this was either the vigi- lantes or some of Leeds’ men, he thought. 17 He settled his battered derby at a more secure angle, squared his stubbled jaw and opened the door. There stood Skeeter Bill, a girl and an old man. 4 JUDGE TAREYTON rubbed a hand across his eyes and stared at them. The girl was smiling; at him, and the judge wondered if it was for him or at him. Skeeter turned to the min- ister and the girl. “Folks, I wants to make yuh used to Judge Tareyton. Then he turned to the judge. “This here is a preacher named Weston, and the lady is his daughter.” The judge removed his battered hat and bowed low. It was an almost disastrous bow, for the judge was not at all steady in the knees, and his recovery was just a bit wabbly. “Sir and ma’am, I am honored. Wel- come to our humble village. There is not much for a visitor to see, that is true, but you must remember that the place is still in its swaddling clothes. Did I understand that you are a minister of the gospel?” “Correctly,” nodded the minister. “TI am here to bring a message to the dim places. Perhaps it is just a trifle strange for a man of my age to take up missionary work, but I felt called to do this and— I am here.” “No doubt of that,’ nodded the judge absently. ‘“‘Not a scintilla of doubt.” The judge shifted his bleared eyes and swept the visible part of the town. “Sir, I have often groped for a word which would describe Sunbeam, but until now it has evaded me. Dim. Yes, that is the word. By gad, sir, this most surely is one of the dim places, and I hope your light never flickers.” “God willing, it never will, sir.” “Ym backin’ his play, judge,” stated Skeeter Bill. Judge Tareyton stared at Skeeter, as if not believing his own ears. He stared at Skeeter until Skeeter shifted uneasily under that steady gaze. ‘“‘Perhaps we had better go to the hotel,” said Mary Leeds. “There ain’t none,” replied Skeeter slowly. “T just been thinkin’ that mebbe Mrs Porter would take yuh bothin. Don’t yuh reckon that’s the best idea, judge?”’ The judge nodded slowly and cleared his throat. 22 GOMIGooOo S C@