Adventure, August 1917 — page 154: what you’re looking at

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

152 your stocking feet ain’t going to be any snap.” ‘“‘A hundred miles,” cried the other. “TI couldn’t walk a hundred miles in a month on snow-shoes. My feet’s all blistered now.” Again Rookie grinned. ‘“‘And they’ll be blistered worse than that when you get there,’ he answered cheer- fully. ‘“‘But, you’re going just the same.” Bad Jack made no reply, but fingered gingerly the shriveled muckluks. ‘These here ain’t no good,” he ventured at length. ‘“‘They’re all knotted up.” “Soak ’em and stretch ’em and then stuff ’em with brush,” advised Rookie. “‘Then dry ’em slow.” The other glowered resentfully, and pick- ing up the muckluks dabbled them in the shallow puddle of water that had collected about the edge of his fire. “Got any grub?” he snarled after a while. “Sure,” replied Rookie, “‘haven’t you?” “Naw, the others packed the grub.” ‘And pulled out on you, eh? Fine bunch to throw in with.” Bad Jack finished stuffing spruce twigs into the muckluks, and picking up his ice- stiffened blanket, limped painfully through the snow to the boy’s fire. Rookie fried some bacon, which the other wolfed down greedily. After his meal, Bad Jack lapsed into silence. Presently Rookie arose, and scrap- ing his fire to the lower end of the cleared rectangle, threw boughs over the warmed spot and spread his blankets for the night. Then tossing an armful of wood upon the fire he “crawled in.” Bad Jack eyed him furtively and glanced resentfully at his own blanket which had frozen stiff. “Better roll in with me,” suggested the boy at length. ‘You'll sleep better.”’ The chechako glanced at him in surprise, but accepted the invitation eagerly. And soon the two were lying side by side between the blankets. A long silence was broken at length by Bad Jack. “Say kid, you never put no handcuffs on me.”’ “Uh huh,” replied the boy sleepily. “You'll sleep better without ’em.”’ “But,” persisted the other, ‘‘what’s to hinder me from—from pulling out on you in the night?” ) Adventure Rookie laughed. ‘“‘Where to?” he asked. “‘Why—why acrost the line of course.” ‘All right,’”? answered the boy sleepily. ‘“‘“Go ahead. See you in the morning.” Bad Jack was puzzled. He planned his escape in detail. But the snow-trail had been too much for him and next morning when he awoke, Rookie had prepared breakfast. The prisoner’s muscles were stiff and ached fearfully, and the boy noticed that he winced as he worked his swollen and blistered feet into the muckluks. ‘‘How did you find things across the line?”’ Rookie asked cheerfully. Upon receiving no answer he continued: “It’s about eight miles to old man Con- rad’s on Ladue Creek, and it’s going to be a pretty tough trail for you, but we ought to make it by noon. Then we'll lay up fora couple of days and doctor your feet.” “Eight miles,’ groaned Bad Jack. “I couldn’t walk eight rods. I’ll never make it.” “Oh, yes, you will,” encouraged the boy. “You’ve got to. We can’t stay here.” “S’pose I won’t gor” growled Bad Jack surlily. ‘You can’t drag me, nor carry me.” “No,” grinned Rookie. “I won’t try. I’ve got to hike on after breakfast. Maybe your friends will come back and hunt you up. Most likely, though, the four-legged wolves will find you first.” For a long time Bad Jack sat gazing silently into the fire. “I—I ain’t got no friends,” he said eruffly. Rookie refilled his cup with tea and looked straight into his eyes. “Buck up, Jack,” he said. ‘Maybe you'll find friends where you least ex- pect ’em.”’ That eight-mile trail was a trail of torture for Bad Jack Creedy. At every step his blistered feet burned as if packed in live coals, and a hundred times he was on the point of quitting, but always the boy urged him on, helping him to his feet when he sprawled awkwardly in the snow, and, with the aid of a light pole, easing him up and down the steep sides of ridges. And long after noon when they reached the lone cabin on Ladue Creek, the prisoner barely managed to stagger through the door and throw himself in a huddled heap upon the bunk. Old man Conrad had thrown in CoOMmiclooks C© 5}