Adventure Magazine Cover — page 172: what you’re looking at

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

170 The crashing fall over the fence, the hard bump when he landed, and the experience of being held and manipulated by a man’s subduing hands, had temporarily taken all the fight out of the horse. When he felt the end of the lariat lash his sides, he made no further effort to buck, but bolted east- ward along the trail toward the cliff-line. Up to this time the watchers on the corral had clung to their perches entirely oblivious of anything but the wonder of that marvel- ous horsemanship. But now, as the yellow horse and his rider disappeared in the dust- cloud set up by the beat of his racing feet, consciousness that they had been thoroughly sold dawned on them. Sudden compre- hension came to Swazey’s mind and he dropped to the ground. He landed running toward his horse. “Come on fellers!”’ he yelled. ‘That ain’t no greenhorn. He’s stealin’ my horse.” This last was said as the tall cowman swung into his saddle. The others followed as fast as their crooked legs would let them. But before they were clear of the corrals, a loud haloo in the rear compelled them to face about and see a small cavalcade of horsemen trotting toward the ranch from the west. These rode directly up to the impatient cowboys and without ceremony dismounted to rest the backs of their hard-ridden horses. A big man with black mustaches left his horse and stepped toward the silent punchers. He wasted no time on pre- liminaries. “Howdy, men. I’m the sheriff of San Pete County, an’ we’re lookin’ fer a man that shot one o’ my deputies couple days ago. We've trailed ‘im this way. He lost ’is horse in the snow crossing the mountains an’ got down in here some- where afoot. Seen anything of a tall, light-haired young feller lately? Looks like a Swede.” The cowboys swung their horses in the direction they had first taken. The tiny dust-cloud was rapidly approaching the cliff-line. Swazey turned in his saddle toward the officer. He wanted to be sure of his ground. “Kin he ride a bit?” “Can he ride?” echoed the sheriff by way of preparing the whole world for an em- phatic affirmative. ‘W’y, that feller rode Long Tom with a dry cowhide tied to his tail on the Fourth at Saliny, last year!” Adventure Swazey whistled softly and turned to his comrades, who smiled grimly. They had all heard of Long Tom, the most famous bucking outlaw in all San Pete. Then Swazey pointed to the faraway dust speck. “T guess that’s your man. We’re after "1m, too.” The weary eyes and gaunt, unwashed cheeks and parched lips of the sheriff and his men bespoke extreme fatigue. But the officer was plucky. ; “Gimme a fresh horse an’ I'll ride with yuh.” Then he turned to his posse. “You boys stay here; no need o’ more’n me going.” Jim Maynard spurred his horse toward the sheriff and stepped off. “Take my horse, sheriff. He’s good, and I wouldn’t be no help, anyway.” Maynard bashfully avoided looking at the big officer as he held out the reins. The sheriff’s faculties were too intent on swift pursuit to permit of a word or look of appreciation. He grabbed the bridle and saddle-horn, swung heavily into the seat, and spurred savagely to overtake Swazey who was riding eastward, his thoughts entirely dominated by a stockman’s in- stinct to visit swift punishment on a horse- thief. He wasn’t easily overtaken. 3 THE men rode in silence, those ee behind entirely occupied with the 26 choking dust, and those in lead looking eagerly at the now empty horizon. The fugitive was over the breaks. But Swazey felt certain of soon capturing him. No range-horse living, carrying a heavy weight for the first time, could long out- run hardened saddle-horses. Then Swazey and the sheriff, galloping ahead of the dust, saw smoke over the hori- zon. For a moment their strained faces indi- cated perplexity. Then Swazey cursed, and his yellow horse seemed very far away. Turning toward the sheriff he shouted above the noise of pounding feet— ‘“He’s fired the trestle!” Compelling still greater speed, the two men withheld expression of their hopes and fears until closer approach should reveal the true situation. The riders were now near the jumping- off place where in some remote geologic age an already badly scarred portion of comicbooks (C@)