Adventure Magazine, Mid-September 1917 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

I2 learning the result of his shooting, when he was startled by a laugh among the bushes. ‘“‘*Tsall right, stranger,’ chuckled the un- known. ‘Put away yore hardware. I don’t mean nothin’ hostyle.”’ “Tf yuh don’t mean nothin’ hostyle, stand up an’ show yoreself!’” barked Chuck. ‘“‘Hostyle, huh! An’ you puttin’ a double hole in my hat an inch over my head.” “Vo’re lucky she ain’t an inch lower,” the unknown assured him. ‘“‘We’re both lucky, come to think of it. Oneo’ yore bul- lets drills my shirt on one side o’ my neck an’ another drills the other side before I can get under cover. Yo’re some good with a gun, stranger, an’ I’d ought to know.” With this, six feet of lank humanity heaved himself up and sat down again in plain sight at the top of the bank. ‘There he sat grinning and holding a rifle across his knees. ‘“‘You’ve shore got gall,’”’ observed Chuck. ‘‘Whyever did yuh cut down on me?” “Which I thought I knowed yuh,” the stranger answered. “You can gamble, stranger, she’s when my finger is a-draggin’ on the trigger that IseesI don’t. There’s no time hardly. Which the hammer’s fallin’ when I lifts the muzzle. Yo’re lucky.” ‘“‘That’s twice you’ve said that,’’ Chuck averred irritably. ‘‘You just miss me by a hair, an’ ‘Oh, yo’re lucky,’ says you. An’ yore excuse is yuh think yuh know me. If yuh’ve had the habit long yuh’d oughta be some friendless by now.”’ The stranger threw back his head and laughed. “Djuh know,” he chuckled, “T’ll betcha you an’ me is goin’ to be friends.” “Not much we ain’t,’’ Chuck disclaimed hastily. “I don’t wanna know yuh, not any. Yo’re a heap too sudden for even a noddin’ acquaintance.”’ “But yuh looked just like a holdup who’s out to down me first chance he gets. He’d bushwhack me as quick’s he’d eat a flap- jack. Yuh shore can’t blame me for tryin’ to get my own lead in first. Why, stranger, what else could I do? I’m crowded this way. My hand is forced. She’s the only wagon-track out.” “That'll be about all. I dunno who y’ are, stranger, an’ I’m a heap willin’ to let it go at that. Now, if yuh don’t mind, ll just back off till I’m out of range an’ leave Adventure yuh to nurse yore little old feud to yore heart’s content.” “T don’t call that neighborly nohow,”’ complained the lanky one. “Call it anythin’ yuh like,’’ Chuck said doggedly. ‘I’m goin’.” “Hey, wait! How’s chances for a job at the Bar-S?” ‘““Well—,” hesitated Chuck. “?Tsall right, stranger,”’ laughed the un- known. ‘I guess now that’s somethin’ I’d better find out for myself. So long.” CHAPTER IV LAGUERRE ADVISES “TE“HERE’S only one play, “Telescope’,”’ said Chuck, ‘‘an’ that is to just front up to Old Salt an’ tell him to leave them nesters be. O’ course it loses me my job, but I can get another easy, so that makes no differ.” Telescope Laguerre, who had ridden in from Packsaddle line-camp that afternoon, made no immediate comment. He was a dark-faced citizen, this Laguerre, a half- breed, and an exceptionally willing gun- fighter. Possessing the shrewd cunning of his Indian mother directed by the quick facile brain of his Gallic father he was an individual to reckon with. Because they were so utterly unlike he and Chuck were firm friends. Hence, immediately after supper, Chuck had led Laguerre to the com- parative seclusion of the straddle-legged windmill and unfolded the true tale of the nesters at Moccasin Spring and his own in- tended action in the matter. “Eef you go geet odder job,” Laguerre said at last, ‘‘she weel be de long way from — Soogan Creek mabbeso.”’ “It can’t be helped none,’ mourned Chuck, lugubriously eying the glowing tip of his cigaret. ‘“You wan’ for be near dem nestair’?” was the half-breed’s softly delivered query. “Naturally.” ‘Den, by gar, you must’ not lose de job. Un eef you mus’ not lose de job you mus’ not say dem ting’ you wan’ for say to Ol’ Salt or you weel lose eet dam’ queeck. You mus’ geet some one else for say eet.” “Oh, shore, then they’ll lose their job. Whatcha talkin’ about, Telescope? Yuh know I gotta do it my own self.” ‘“‘Leesten, you mus’ geet some one w’at COMGHOO (©