Adventure Magazine, Mid-September 1917 — page 60: what you’re looking at

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

58 “He said he wasn’t, an’ I s’pose he’s tellin’ the truth.” “Perhaps. When did Bill Derr start?” “Between two an’ three in the mornin’. He’d ought to be back with Old Salt some- time this afternoon.” “It’s nearly six now. There! I knew I heard horses.”’ A few minutes later Mr. Saltoun, Tele- scope Laguerre, and Bill Derr trotted into view beyond the cottonwoods at the spring. Mr. Saltoun rode up and dismounted beside Chuck. His eyes were wide with eagerness. “IT see yuh got Mister Angora Chaps among others,” he remarked, catching sight of the three prisoners tied to the corral. “Did he have a pearl-handled gun, toor—. Yeah, I thought so. Just as if the only An- gora chaps an’ black an’ gold hatband an’ pearl-handled gun in the world was at the Bar-S. Huh! Which that shavetail was shorely a fool! Lessee these hosses 0’ mine.”’ ‘““My hosses,” corrected Chuck gently. But Mr. Saltoun did not hear him. He was staring with dropped jaw at the horses in the corral. “They’re branded 88!” cried Mr. Saltoun, when he could speak. ‘‘They ain’t my hosses a-tall!”’ “They shore ain’t,”’ Chuck drawled with deep meaning. ‘“Didn’t Bill Derr tell yuh? I guess maybe he forgot. An’ every last one of ’em is branded 88, too. I made shore o’ that this mornin’. There’s about four hundred an’ twelve head. Call it four hun- dred flat.” “T don’t wanta call ’em nothin’,” snapped the disgusted Mr. Saltoun. “They ain’t my hosses.”’ “Ain’t it lucky? Yessir, she’s shore providential. Yuh kind 0’ thought Cutnose was goin’ to rustle yore cows, didn’t yuh, what with them ramblin’ round the Bar-S range an’ all? But that was just to figure out the best route to drive when they had Adventure the 88 hosses safe across Soogan. Seems like the drinks are on you.” “They are,’ said Mr. Saltoun hand- somely, ‘‘but there’s no saloon handy.” “That is a calamity,” grinned Chuck. “‘When are yuh goin’ to buy these hosses from Lanpher?”’ “Buy ’em from Lanpher!”’ “Shore. Didn’t you say if what Cutnose Canter rustled turned out to be hosses, yuh’d give ’em to me?”’ Then and not till then did Mr. Saltoun remember the hasty promise he had made Chuck in the office of the Bar-S. Four hun- dred-odd head of horses! Good Lord! Mr. Saltoun groaned in spirit. “Yuh didn’t say whose hosses or what hosses,”’ continued the unrelenting Chuck. “Yuh said hosses.”’ “T wouldn’t buy half a hoss-shoe from that Lanpher!” barked Mr. Saltoun. “Gimme the money then,” suggested Chuck helpfully. *“‘At five a head.” Resignedly. “Ten. A good many are broke.” “Split the difference. Sevenan’ four bits.” “Tl go yuh. Three thousand dollars. That’ll shore be a great help. I might as well tell yuh, I’m thinkin’ o’ quittin’.” ‘“‘An’ I might as well tell you, Chuck, that I ain’t sorry. I’d never feel easy again with you at the ranch. As a puncher yo’re all right, but as a payin’ investment yo’re one expensive proposition.” WHEN the hard-riding Chuck and a posse reached Marysville the fol- lowing day they were grieved to dis- cover that Bun Jason was not in town. He had, although scarcely able to move from the effects of Canter’s beating, fled Marys- ville on his swiftest horse the previous night. The posse waited hopefully a few days. But Mr. Jason did not return. He never returned. COMmicloo C©