Adventure Magazine, Mid-September 1917 — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

Longhorns were dispatched to the most northerly of the Cow Creek line-camps, and Chuck was sent to Farewell with mail. The Kid’s Twin was much disgruntled at Chuck’s good luck. His mind had been all set to go to Farewell. But it may be that Loudon felt that the Kid’s Twin had con- sumed rather more time than was necessary on his last trip to town. Much to his dis- gust the Twin was given a team of mules and a wagon and orders to cut and pack fire- wood against the coming of cold weather. Arrived in Farewell, Chuck first attended to the mail and some ranch errands and then went about on his occasions. Of Mike Flynn, the one-legged storekeeper, ancient ally of the Bar-S, he made it his business to inquire concerning the comings and goings of Cutnose Canter. The red-headed Irish- man could tell him nothing further than that Cutnose had been consistently follow- ing his custom of absenting himself from Farewell’s midst for weeks at a time, but that at the present moment he could be found playing draw with a few of his friends in the Happy Heart saloon. Chuck, on his way to Bill Lainey’s hotel, stopped at the Happy Heart. Standing at the bar, his hand cupped round his glass of whisky, he unobtrusively watched Cutnose Canter where he sat dealing at a table in a corner of the room. As behooved a man whose habits are not conservative, Cutnose faced the door; he wore two guns, tied down; in bearing he was as alert as a weasel. But there the re- semblance to that intelligent animal van- ished. For Cutnose was short, thickset, and his arms were of extraordinary length. In common with the anthropoid and other apes, he possessed projecting and lobeless ears. His head was prognathous, his nose depressed in the middle as by a blow, and from beneath black eyebrows that met, a pair of dark eyes gazed upon the wicked world with a regard as cold and fixed and baleful as that of a snake. _ The casual observer would have con- sidered Cutnose a man of violent passions. The student of criminal physiognomy and characteristics would have gone further and said that his abnormalities were those of the robber and murderer. The sheriff of Fort Creek County went further yet and hoped some day to hang Cutnose by the neck till he was dead. Cutnose riding the range was a person of 2 17 prominent interest, but Cutnose playing poker was not even amusing. Chuck drank off his whisky and departed bedward. Leaving Farewell at dawn he headed in the direction of Soogan Creek. To goby way of Moccasin Spring would not lengthen his ride by more than twenty miles. What were twenty extra miles to Peppermint? Two hours out he overtook Willie’s Old Brother-in-Law, a pronghorn buck across his pony’s rump, bound for his camp at the mouth of Soogan Creek. Greetings having been exchanged with all ceremony, Chuck broached the subject of the long stranger and the probability of his being taken on at the 88. Would Willie’s Old Brother-in- Law find it convenient to inspect the stranger at close range? ) “T go,” said the red-skinned altruist. “I no see Cutnose un hees frien’ close. I try for tell. Ino tell mabbeso. Las’ time I smoke you’ tobacco, now you smoke’ mine.” So, wrapped in a perfect understanding as befitted old friends, talking in fits and starts, they rode down the long sleepy miles and came at last to Moccasin Spring. CHAPTER VI BEEF DEEP and all-pervading peace had hung over the old C-Y ranch-house when Chuck rode away with the Kid’s Twin. But now there was no peace. Down by the corral a man’s voice was raised in acrimonious utterance. With the impas- sioned remarks mingled the sobs of a woman. | The high stockade of the corral con- cealed whatever was transpiring and Chuck Morgan, his mouth a straight line, spurred Peppermint toa run. He swung the horse round the corner of the corral. Hard-held, Peppermint slid to a halt on the edge of what appeared to be a dramatic situation. Mr. Dale, supported by the arms of his wife, sat on the ground and coughed long retching coughs that shook him from his white head to his run-over heels. The handkerchief Mrs. Dale held to her hus- band’s lips was stained bright red. At her mother’s side little black-haired Molly crouched, sobbing her heart out. In front of the forlorn group, her hands clenched till the knuckles showed white, her COmicloo ©