Adventure Magazine Cover — page 41: what you’re looking at

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

The Spark of Skeeter Bill back East and lied to those men. He told them that he had been robbed—that a man had impersonated him and cashed the checks. They sent him to prison.” Mary Leeds looked down at Tug Leeds and shook her head, while the tears ran down her cheeks. She threw out her arms in a gesture of weariness. “That was not true,” she said brokenly. “T have been trying to find him and tell him it isn’t true, but now——’ “What was that?” exclaimed McClain. “Wasn’t true?” “No, it wasn’t true. One of the men—a man who knew he was going West with that money, and who followed and helped rob him—died over a year ago, but before he died he confessed enough to clear my father’s name. But my father escaped from prison the night of that confession.” Mary Leeds dropped on her knees beside Tug Leeds’ body and sobbed brokenly. Sandy McClain, wounded outlaw, laughed hollowly, foolishly. Skeeter Bill stepped in close to him, thinking that McClain had lost his mind, but McClain shoved away from him and weaved over to Mary. “Get up,” he croaked, and Mary looked appealingly up at him. ‘Get up! My : don’t waste tears on that carrion. That man is the one who impersonated your father. Don’t you hear me? He took the name of Leeds and he’s never been able to change it.”’ ‘This man Is not my father?”’ Mary Leeds got to her feet and stared around. “Not— my—father?” McClain shook his head. “No. I knowed your father, Miss. Me and him was in the same penitentiary. That man—” he pointed at Tug Leeds’ body— “that man wasn’t fit to oil his boots. He ruined your father and ended by killing him.” “What do yuh mean?” gasped Skeeter Bill. McClain pointed to the bunk. ‘Judge Tareyton was James Leeds. I knew his story. My time was up a few days after he escaped.” McClain finished his explanation and turned toward the door, where a crowd of miners were coming in, headed by Jerry Byler and Dick Franklyn. They stopped and stared at the body of Tug Leeds. The 33 old minister had got to his feet and was look- ing weakly around, a welter of blood on his gray hair, where Tug had hit him with a gun. “Boys,” said McClung,” I reckon there ain’t much use for a vigilance committee now. Dick your pardner was the head of the whole gang.”’ “We kinda cleaned up up-town,” nodded Franklyn. “That feller Cullop told us a few things before he cashed in and we rounded up all the rest—cripples and all. Sunbeam is rid of outlaws, Mac—thanks to Sarg.”’ “Thanks to Sarg,” said Skeeter Bill slow- ly. “Boys, I’ve lost my pardner—my old drunken lawyer pardner. I asks yuh to see that he gets p-planted right—preacher and all. He wasn’t much to anybody— but me, don’t yuh see—not while he was alive. I—I reckon I'll say adios to yuh all, folks.” Skeeter Bill turned and started for the door. The miners stepped aside to let him pass out, but McClung stopped him at the threshold. “Sarg, you ain’t goin’ to leave Sunbeam, / are yuh?” Skeeter smiled wistfully and nodded. “Sunbeam has got to be clean, McClung —clean of outlaws. There’s two left. Mc- Clain is entitled to your thanks for what he done tonight, and I know danged well he’ll go straight if yuh give him a chance— and a doctor. “The other one—” he stopped and glanced back at the figure on the bed— “the other one don’t want no thanks—not till he works that little spark up to a decent- sized blaze. He’s goin’ now—thanks to Sarg.” He stepped quickly outside and went around the corner toward his little barn. The miners poured question after question at Mary and McClung, but the girl shoved them away and ran to the door. “Skeeter Bill!” she called. Bill!” The crowd edged in behind her, won- deringly, silently listening for a reply. A few moments later it came—a di- minuendo of galloping hoofs. Skeeter Bill Sarg was heading for the desert, following a star, which was, as yet, only a tiny spark. | ee “Skeeter GOMIIGooOoO SS C@