Adventure, August 1917 — page 153: what you’re looking at

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

The Taming of ‘‘Bad Jack” Creedy “You go after Bad Jack, kid,” he said, at length. ‘‘An’ when you get him, take him on to Dawson. Take him straight acrost. There ain’t nothin’ will do him so much good as a hundred-mile hike. You got grub enough to take you to old man Conrad’s, on Ladue Creek. Then cut acrost to Sixty-mile an’ on down the river an’ don’t be easy on him, neither. It’s just what he needs.”’ ‘What charge shall I place against him?” asked the boy. McGovern grinned. ‘“‘That’s up to you,” he said. “If I know _anythin’ about it, it will take you a good week to make that hundred miles, an’ by the time you get to Dawson, you'll know how his heart is.” Rookie found no serious difficulty in fol- lowing Bad Jack’s trail. It was a curious trail—aimless and circuitous, leading in and out among thickets, over logs, up hill and down. Evidently, the chechako’s one thought was to keep moving, regardless of obstacles or the conformation of the coun- try. During the afternoon the trail grew fresher and the signs told that the man had fallen frequently. Halting upon the top of a low ridge, the boy saw smoke ascending from the dense thicket a mile ahead, and abandoning the floundering trail, he cut straight through the timber. The camp was easily located, and after a few moments of reconnoitering the youngster slipped noiselessly to the fire. Rolled in a single blanket close to the blaze lay Bad Jack. A rifle of heavy caliber leaned against a near-by tree, and three woolen socks and a pair of moccasins deco- rated some sticks stuck into the snow by the fireside. The other sock with the foot burned off lay smoking at the edge of the coals. Rookie threw the rifle as far as he could and watched it bury itself in the deep snow. It was late in the afternoon, and the boy made tamp, without waking Bad Jack. He selected,a spot where the trees thinned, and at once proceeded to make himself cony fortable for the night. Making sure that there were no overhanging branches above him, he scraped the snow from a space six or eight feet in diameter and built his fire. Then, with an abundance of wood within easy reach, he spread his blankets and sat down to his supper of bacon and tea. The boy grinned as he glanced toward 151 Bad Jack. He knew it would not be long before the other would awaken through sheer discomfort. The roaring fire the chechako had built beneath the branches of a snow-laden spruce was getting in its work and water was dropping upon the sleeping man’s blanket. Another sock tumbled into the blaze. Rookie noted also that Bad Jack had neglected to gather a supply of fire-wood, and that the muckluks which hung close to the fire were shriveled into hard lumps. rege THE “BAD MAN” awoke with a gay start, sat up, and stared in be- wilderment from his soaked blanket to the dying fire. Then slowly and stiffly he arose to his feet, growling at the sight of the charred socks. With chattering teeth and much groaning and muttering the chechako drew the remaining pair of coarse socks over his blistered feet. His eye suddenly fell upon Rookie seated warm and comfortable upon his blankets close beside his little fire. He recognized the boy instantly, and swiftly his eyes sought the tree against which his rifle had leaned. He returned his gaze to Rookie who sat apparently oblivious to his pres- ence. “Well,” he growled at length. you doing here?” “Camping,” answered Rookie, laconi- cally. “I was waiting for you to wake up.” “And now I’m awake, what you goin’ to do about it?” “Nothing. We’ll just camp here till morning, then we’ll hit the trail.” , ‘Where to?” “Dawson.” ‘“‘Dawson,” exclaimed the other. ‘‘I ain’t goin’ to Dawson.” “Yes, you are,” answered the boy. “‘That’s just exactly where you are going.” “You mean you’re goin’ to arrest me?” There was a contemptuous note in the chechako’s voice. Rookie grinned. ‘“‘Nope, I ain’t going to; you’re arrested already.” “Bad Jack laughed. ‘“‘So you think you can take me to Daw- son, do you?”’ Rookie nodded. “We start at daylight,” he answered. ‘And if I were you I’d get busy on those muckluks. Because a hundred-mile hike in “What CoOmiclsoo CO 5}