Adventure Magazine Cover — page 131: what you’re looking at

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

Pay Gravel edge of the hills. It would be hard to find anything with wings more difficult to catch than the pigeon. Nothing could be more deadly in pursuit than the falcon. In circling back the two swooped down close to Dinsdale, the pigeon striving to find cover; but the falcon was too close and the fugitive darted into the open sky once more. A twist and a turn, a swift ascent and a sheer drop for hundreds of feet, and before the pigeon could straighten out on a new course the falcon’s feet shot forward and, without losing a stroke, the conqueror was winging away to a neighboring height where it could devour its prey at leisure. “That’s what Jim Omaha is,” mused Dinsdale aloud. ‘‘They call him a ‘blood- hound.’ He’s a falcon—a duck-hawk. Once he sights his man the race can end only one way.” He left his pan and pick while he recon- noitered the top of the ridge. He reached the crest only to discover another and higher ridge ahead. He descended into the shallow valley between the two and fol!- lowed it down for a fourth of a mile, pro- ceeding slowly and watchful for Indian signs. He was surprized and keenly inter- ested on turning a wooded bend to behold a long log cabin ahead. Beyond it were half a dozen open sheds and a rough corral. There was no smoke against the blue hori zon, and although he waited for several minutes he could detect no signs of life about the place. With a shrug of his shoulders he boldly advanced, telling him- self: “Tf any one is there he must have seen me. I’m a lost prospector, trying to find old Iron Pyrites.”’ The cabin door was closed and, what was unusual, blankets were hung over the small windows. These were lacking glass but were partly blocked by strips of timber. He first examined the sheds and corrals. None contained horses. “They’re ready to care for a heap of them when put to it,” he thought as he advanced to the door and rapped smartly. As he had expected there was no response. There was a hole for a latchstring but no rawhide thong was visible. He tried the door and felt the bar resist the pressure. “But they get in some way,” he pon- dered. He stepped back and examined the windows and then returned to the door. Then he smiled at the artful simplicity of 125 it. The hole in the door was never used for the latchstring but merely to discourage a trespasser. At one side of the door and concealed by a strip of hanging bark was the thong. He seized it and tugged sharply. The bar rose inside and the door swung open. the threshold Dinsdale’s eyes were baffled by the gloom. He closed the door and waited patiently until his gaze could pene- trate to the end of the long room. Six rough bunks were on each of the side walls. The chimney and fireplace were at the farther end with several kettles and frying-pans. Near the door was a table. This arrangement made it necessary to bring the food the entire length of the room, an unnecessary inconvenience, he decided. He passed down between the bunks and found each had its complement of blankets. Several pairs of boots littered the floor, while considerable harness, old and new, hung from pegs. Piled in one corner near the fireplace were seven saddles. Four of these did not look as if they had ever been used. ‘The ashes in the fireplace were cold and no fire could have burned there for twenty-four hours. Tip-toeing back to the door he puzzled over the awkward position of the table. His wonderment further increased when he dis- covered each of the four legs was bolted to the floor. Ironmongery was easily pro- cured in Deadwood City and other hill towns, but why any one should bother to bring iron clamps and screws to this iso- lated spot and make a rough slab table secure to the floor was a problem that chal- lenged his imagination. He took hold of the table and lifted. It did not give. He glided to the side farthest from the door and repeated his experiment. With an exclamation he jumped back and the table banged down in place again. He had had this discovery in mind and yet it had startled him. He had lifted a section of the floor along with the table. Return- ing to the side next to the door he reached across and once more lifted and pulled. The table tipped quite easily. It was bolted to, and effectually concealed, a large trap-door. When he finished the door stood upright at right angles with the floor and the table rested on its side. — _ Darting to one of the curtained windows he pulled back the covering and briefly surveyed the course he had taken in coming CORNICLOO© S For a few moments after crossing (C@