Adventure Magazine Cover — page 114: what you’re looking at

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

108 to use him, as he knows nothing about us and can be turned adrift among the stars, or simply be left to look out for himself. But until I have decided the first order stands and there will be no drawing of lots. You will now wait the usual time before leaving the room.” The leader stole to the door and un- bolted it and knocked gently. The outside fastening was removed, and but three men were left in the room. After two minutes had elapsed Number Two spoke, and Num- ber Four glided into the black hall. “IT know the man you mean. He’s a good one to tie to. Waste of good timber to leave him to play a lone hand. He might cut in ahead of us at that! Just like his nerve. It would be a crazy move to shut off his wind if he does join us,” grum- bled Number Three. “Everything will be done for the best of the gang. And you're breaking the rule by talking after the chief has gone,” replied Number Two. “T’m_ shut,’”’ muttered Number Three. “T don’t want to be ’vited to take a walk with him like Rodney was.” “You fool! You'll take a walk yet if you don’t watch that clumsy tongue of yours!”’ hissed Number Two. ‘Go!’ Number Three was awkward in gaining the door and overturned a chair. Number Two cursed under his breath and drew a gun. The man was not meditating treach- ery, however, for he hurriedly rapped on the door and was eager to gain the hall. WHILE this secret conference was being held—and the hour was yet early for Deadwood’s night life— Dinsdale was forgetting San Juan Joe’s warning of the night before and was busily making local history. He began in ‘‘Keno” Frank’s place. This was smaller than San Juan’s dive but consisted entirely of a wooden structure that formed one big room with a cubby-hole partitioned off in a corner for the proprietor’s bunk. Legend had it that Keno Frank never slept. He was on duty all night and usually was to be found on the street during the daylight hours, when he visited among the gambling fraternity, or dropped in at Kitty the Schemer’s place. He must have snatched his rest an hour or two at a time, but the impression was that he remained awake throughout the full twenty-four hours. Adventure The moment Dinsdale entered the hall he drew the attention of all. Even those placing their bets took time to glance at the “Greenback man.” ‘The story of his game at San Juan’s place was commonly known, thanks much to French Curly’s advertising; only his losses were said to have been twenty thousand. A man who could lose so royally and yet have plenty left to scatter recklessly was bound to become the focal point of interest in the town’s topsy-turvy world. Daughters of Aspasia flocked about him whenever he stepped inside a dance- hall, much to the envy of French Curly and others of his type. Curly was at the faro table, losing his poker winnings, when Dins- dale entered and bruskly walked to the bar and invited the house to join him. Because of his losses Curly was more venomous than usual, if that be possible. He fingered his few remaining chips and stared at Dinsdale, convinced it was a per- sonal misfortune that the newcomer should throw away money which might so easily be taken from him at cards. The gambler placed his chips and lost and then turned about and with smoldering eyes continued to watch the buoyant Dinsdale. The “Greenback man” had forgotten his losses at San Juan’s place, or else they were imma- terial to him, and now was ina rare humor. With his slouch hat pushed back he was indulging in an exchange of wits with a dozen men busily drinking at his expense. Carelessly throwing more money on the bar he directed that drinks be served again to all who might care to partake. The acceptance was general. ‘“Easy come, easy go,” whispered a mer- chant, whose profits ran several hundred per cent. . His neighbor smiled and murmured— “A fool and his money, you know.” And their glasses clinked. “But when it’s gone I calculate he knows where to get more—if he’s lucky,” whis- pered the storekeeper. French Curly could endure-the spectacle no longer. The faro bank had all his win- nings and he was supposed to have a few thousands in reserve. He rose and saun- tered to the bar and took a position beside Dinsdale, his cadaverous face attempting to assume a genial expression. Dinsdale smiled genially and invited— “Name it.” “No, thanks,” declined Curly, his eyes COnmlicloookKks (C@