Adventure Magazine, Mid-September 1917 — page 47: what you’re looking at

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

Longhorns ‘‘Now that’s right interestin’, Yuh can’t remember nothin’ else?” “‘T can’t, but perhaps Molly can. Oh, there you are.” ‘““He wore white angora chaps,” declared Molly, who had been listening from the doorway. “Didja get a look at his gun?-—No, not his rifle, his six-shooter?”’ *“‘T remember it was a pearl-handled gun.”’ “T knowed it! I knowed it!’ Chuck ex- claimed gleefully. ‘I knowed there was a nigger in it somewhere. An’ he rode a Cross-T buckskin, didn’t he, ma’am?” “Nigger! Cross-T buckskin?” repeated Jane. ‘I don’t understand.” | “Oh, it’s just some more of what little girls don’t know,” flashed the Rainbow. ‘‘Trust a man to be as mysterious as possible. Lord, they make me so mad I could shake them!”’ “Tt don’t matter, ma’am,” said Chuck, disregarding the Rainbow’s outburst. *Yuh’ll know all about it some day.” “That’s cheering, I’m sure,” Jane ob- served with some stiffness. *“‘Ain’t it?” remarked Chuck brightly. *‘T guess now I'll just go in an’ see yore mother after I split up another armful.” When Chuck entered the kitchen he found Mrs. Dale kneading the dough for biscuits. Having first maneuvered Molly out of the room, he told Mrs. Dale, with as much delicacy as possible, enough of Rattles’ story to frighten her stiff. “My God!” she breathed, facing him across the kneading-board, her face as white as the flour on her barearms. ‘‘Wha- what shall we do?”’ ‘Nothin’, ma’am, but watch out. It won’t be for long. Jason an’ Cutnose are pretty near through, but till they do cash, yuh gotta look i ‘“‘Sh-sh! not so loud!’’ cautioned Mrs. Dale. ‘“‘My husband mus’n’t know any- thing about this. It—it might aggravate his condition. Wedo have to be so careful.” “Yuh gotta be twice as careful from now on,’”’ Chuck continued in a lower tone. ‘‘An’ if I was you I’d keep a gun handy. a rifle, I s’pose.”’ ‘‘Two and a six-shooter.” “Then be ready to use ’em, an’ don’t let the girls out o’ yore sight.” Twenty minutes later Chuck was on his way to the Bar-S. He had left the Rain- Molly! bow at the C-Y. She had expressed her Yuh got 45 intention of ‘ooking round’’ a little before returning to the lodges on the Lazy. Three miles or more from the C-Y, a horseman rode out of a neighboring wash. The horseman was Telescope Laguerre. Chuck waved an arm and checked the roan. The half-breed rode up, grinning. ‘“‘By gar!” he cried, “I see dees roan hoss un I not know heem, so I come for see, un eet, ees you.” ‘“‘Nothin’s happened, then—yet?”’ “Not one t’ing. Un’ we have scout plenty, me un’ Buff. You have de luck at Fort Seymour, mabbeso?” | ‘“‘Oh, we had luck. All we got from the colonel was, ‘She’s a mistake,’ an’ ‘I’m sorry.’ But I haven’t any hard feelin’s, not me. ’Cause by bein’ arrested an’ drug off to Seymour I learned a heap. One thing is that they’s a reward o’ five hundred dollars apiece for them two killers.” ‘‘We are not de deputy,”’ demurred La- guerre. “‘We have not time for chasse dem.” “IT kind o’ think trailin’ ’em’ll be part of our reg’lar job. What would yuh say if I told yuh one of ’em got away on the hoss of the puncher he shot, a Cross-T buckskin pony?” “T see w’at you see—Henderson. Well, I do not t’ink eet ees heem, un’ anyway, Chuck, she ees not our beezness. —— de five hunder dollair! W’y we arres’ man for fight wit’ de soldats! Eet ees not our beezness, I say, me.” Laguerre frowned his disapproval. “I understand all that,” said Chuck equably. “If she’d been a fair fight, all right. I wouldn’t raise a finger against 7em. But the twoswaddies an’ the puncher was shot in the back and robbed. I got it all straight from a tinhorn at Seymour. Now. whadda yuh say?” “Dat ees deeff’rent,”’ declared Laguerre, his dark face clearing. ‘‘Dat ees bad, shoot man een de back.”’ : “You bet it’s bad—bad for Henderson.” ‘Aw, Henderson! I tell you Chuck Ss “‘Look here, wasn’t these jiggers shot in the back? Didn’t Henderson bushwhack me for an enemy? Ain’t that the same kind ofatrick? Don’t it show he’s got the habit? An’ he rides a Cross-T buckskin just like one o’ them killers. What more do yuh want?” triumphantly. “I wan’ more dan dat,” dissented La- guerre stubbornly. ‘‘Dere ees anudder wan COmicloo (©