Adventure Magazine Cover, April 1916 — page 151: what you’re looking at

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

The Relocation of Montana Creek ever a stake was driven, there was need for desperate haste. Now the claims belonged to nobody, or rather there were no claims other than the measurements of Fawcett upon a piece of open creek. They had to be staked afresh. There were many stakers for any one claim, but the man who would get any one claim to hold for his own was the man who first recorded it in Dawson City. The others who also staked it would lose out in the grim race. Hence the turmoil in the crowd. Sections surged this way and that. They leaped upon their sleds and whipped off or ran at top speed to find their anchored out- fits. Pandemonium broke loose on the creek, and many were the preliminary skir- mishes fought between men and beasts for advantageous positions all up and down Montana’s length. At the last word of the Gold Commission: er’s proclamation Ante Baker broke down- creek and out of Montana’s mouth with his dog-team. In the general disorder his move was not noticed by many; but Sark, who was keeping strict watch upon Casino and his gang, was one of the few who saw him. “‘Ante’s gone,” he protested to the Com- missioner. “I know what’s up. Casino’s on for staking our claim by proxy, and Ante’s gone ahead to record.”’ ‘“‘Ante’s cut off,” declared Fawcett, strik- ing the name from his list of stakers. “They don’t run any proxy game on me. Unless Casino stakes and records himself, he doesn’t get a foot of ground. Every other man like- wise. And I’ll just bar any more dog-teams from leaving this creek before the reloca- tion’s under way.” ‘Scrumptious!’ cheered Bassett. ‘You sure are the real goods, Fawcett—the stiff man in the rigid place. All we want is a fair start. Pardner, you go over the har- ness and stuff, as he says, and see that the outfit’s all sound. I'll jump into the spruce and cut a new gee-pole. The one on the sledge is cracked.” Sark gave his whole outfit a thorough in- spection. First of all he stripped the sledge to racing gear. Then he examined carefully the feet of each of the five dogs, biting out any ice that clung between their toes, for on the condition of the dogs’ feet the ulti- mate outcome of the race might well de- pend. And finally, although there were no | breaks in the harness, he strengthened sev- eral suspiciously weak spots that might give 149 way at a critical moment and put them out of the running. All his preparations thus made, he took the team out on the creek ice and anchored it near where the lower center stake of Bassett’s original claim would be driven. ‘“‘Aren’t you going to take a chance your- self, Eric?’ several men asked. “The creek, except Tolume’s claim, is wide open to every one.” “No, I’m no game-hog,” replied Sark. “There are a bunch of stakers here now for every claim, and they were here this last trip before I was. I know when it’s good manners to stay out. I’m only running- mate with Bassett. He stakes our old ground.” Casino and Gunboat slid down the bank and located one outfit near Sark’s. it was evident that Gunboat was going to act as Casino’s running-n.ate, and he mark- ed five more of Casino’s friends with ready blazed and written stakes in their hands. The odds were bigger than they had ex- pected, he mentally calculated, and looked anxiously for Bassett’s coming, for the min- utes were creeping round to six o’clock. Bassett, however, was not to be seen and his partner began to bellow after him into the spruce. “Oh, Tom!” he yelled. “Hurry up! It’s getting near the start. Does it take you all night to cut a gee-pole?”’ “I’m comin’, pardner,” Bassett yelled back. ‘Footin’ it fast!” He broke out of the spruce, the gee-pole in one hand and his mackinaw coat rolled up in the other. The pole he tossed to Sark to lash, while he commenced to bind his coat onto the sledge well toward the front. “T’ll run lighter in my parka,” he breath- ed tersely. “Then throw the coat away,” advised Sark. “I’ve just stripped the sledge of every ounce I could. What you want to lug that thing for?”’ “There’s a bit of dog-feed in it.” “But we don’t want dog-feed. For one thing you kill dogs’ speed if you feed them in a race, and for another thing you can’t stop to feed them. I tell you we can’t pos- sibly use that feed, Tom!’’ ‘“‘Pardner, I hate to dispute at this press- in’ moment, but I tell you we can.” “But, blast it, you know yourself dogs shouldn’t be fed in a run.” To Eric “Tt depends on the dogs. I’ve seen a Comicbooks.com