Adventure Magazine Cover — page 133: what you’re looking at

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

eae ‘ ee IMPERSONATIN NG MURIEL by George Frederic Stratton HE conductor of the Omaha Lim- ited dropped into a seat alongside Buck Plimsoll, cattleman of the Fuzzy H ranch, who had swung on at Cheyenne. “Thickening up through here,” he ob- served lazily. ‘’Tisn’t but a few years since we’d check off the mileage on this run by the ranch-houses we passed, instead of the towns. Is it settling up much in your section?” ‘Some rapid,” answered Mr. Plimsoll. “‘Civilization’s spreadin’ over us like water on a new irrigation project. It’s in spots, of course; but they’re sure frequent an’ obtru- sive. Poncho Platt, of the Flying U, has got a buzz-wagon, an’ they’re runnin’ juice along the barb-wire fences for telephones. Down on the Conejos River they’ve got motor- boats that make as much racket as auto- matic repeaters. With all them things, an’ elopements, it isn’t the good ole West any more—not so you’d notice it.” “Seems as if I’d heard of elopements in the old range country,’”’ demurred the con- ductor; “‘even among the Indians.” “Some,” agreed Buck. ‘But they were sure regular an’ orthodox. A man an’ a girl an’ a couple of ponies would turn up missing. ‘Then the girl’s father or brother, an’ a friend who could sure ride would fol- low; an’ after an interval, solemn an’ ex- citin’, they’d get back, either with the widow or without, accordin’ to luck. But now they run ’em off with frills an’ frivol- ousness that makes ’em more like moving- picture shows than real elopements. They meander out with suit-cases while the old man’s peekin’ through a knot-hole in the hoss-shed, smilin’ some urbane an’ felicitous; an’ the next day, all the eloping team’s got to do is to look in the papers an’ see the ad— ‘Come back—All is forgiven.? Which the same doesn’t always happen. The last I was mixed up in was sure unique an’ satisfying.” The conductor looked at his watch and then said eagerly: “It'll be forty minutes before we reach Vernal, and I’d like first rate to hear how you handle elopements up your way, Buck.” The cattleman rolled a cigarette and commenced: It was after the last round-up an’ I was squandering a few days in recreation at Lariat City, piroutin’ around with Charlie Bansford, who’s got a buzz-wagon an’ a motor-boat, an’ we sure meandered up an’ down the face of nature, promiscuous. One afternoon we’d been fishing in a row-boat about four miles down the river, an’ as we rounded Bald Hill, prospectin’ for country where the fishes would nachully eat the hook instead of the bait, we saw a motor- boat roped in the middle of the stream. There were a man an’ a girl in it, an’ as we came in sight the man shouted an’ beckoned. real peevish. “Broke down, I guess,” said Charlie; an’ as we got near enough to recognize brands, the two men hollered “‘ Hello, Gus!” and “Hello, Charlie!”’ an’ Charlie lifted his hat to the girl. “‘What’s wrong?” asked Charlie. “No gasoline!”? muttered Gus; an’ I'll bet if the girl hadn’t been there he’d have gurgled out free an’ abandoned language, as impressive as Greaser Pete of the Four B. 889 COMG HOO 5}