Adventure Magazine Cover, April 3, 1918 — page 115: what you’re looking at

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

Red like th’ Sioux do when they want to mean a Crow.” “T see nothing in that to make you feel worried,’’ snapped Texas, tearing up little tufts of grass between his crossed legs. “Better turn in.” “Jest what I’m goin’ to do—I’ll sleep like atop, too. Ye see, it fussed me up because th’ picter showed there was a heap 0’ hossmen. He jest wanted to hammer that fact home.’’ “He saw them. He knew how many he saw.” ‘An’ there’s th’ nub what fussed me. F’r jest afore he was wiped out I scouted that region some keerful an’ larned Lean Wolf an’ th’ bulk of his men was off to jin th’ Pawnee in a big buf’ler hunt. That’s what I reported back to th’ fort. Th’ commander must think I’m an ol’ fool.” ‘“‘Any scout is apt to read signs wrong at times,’ mumbled Texas. “Yd overlook it in another, but in my own case it hurt my feelin’s, o said Silent, beginning to open the blanket. “Why, I even was so upsot at my mistake I jest took a scout up th’ crick arter ye arrived with th’ picter.”’ “You did?” ? The query shot out like a bullet, the scout drawing his heels beneath him as though to rise, his gaze narrowing. With a raucous laugh Silent gathered his feet under him and continued— “That’s what I done—an’ I couldn’t find nary a sign o’ th’ Kiowy what Two Birds marked down in his picter.”’ ‘So? But it’s only a guess that he made the drawing. I picked it up some distance from where I found him. It may have belonged to a Kiowa, who had it to use when he made up his Winter count (calendar of tribal events).”’ Silent shook his head, dissenting: “Scurcely possible, seein’ as how it pictered Two Birds. Either he made it, or th’ Injuns, what wiped him out, made it. But if Injuns done it th’ picter would | show him killed. No; th’ Kiowy couldn’t a’ made it. An’ yet it was made with th’ same kind o’ paint that I found in th’ pouch at th’ Caches—cur’ous.”’ ‘Who, then, but Two Birds could have made it?” hoarsely demanded Texas. “Lawd bless ye! I don’t know, ’less it was some one who hated white folks an’ Toll 113 their Gov’ment scouts because he, hisself, was neither white nor red,” retorted Silent as he smoothed out the blanket. With a sharp intake of breath Texas leaned forward and glared at the blanket. For nearly a minute the two sat rigid and silent, then the scout whispered— ‘Where did you get thai?” “From th’ body I dug up,” gritted Silent, balancing on the balls of his feet as he met and returned the ferocious gaze. “Two trails led to th’ east bank o’ th’ Ash. Only one quit it. Two Birds was killed in his sleep; murdered inside his blanket by some one he trusted.” He paused and pointed at the tell-tale hole made by the mortal knite-blow. Then he loudly cried: “Ve renegade, neither white nor red, ye done f’r him jest as ye done f’r th’ scouts at th’ Cimarron Crossing, at th’ Rock, at Pawnee Forks, at th’ Walnut, an’ as ye’d planned ‘to do f’r me. Ye made believe ye didn’t dare take th’ trail alone along 0’ fearin’ Lean Wolf. Yer book English made ye cute, but not cute ’nough to fool th’ ol? man, who knows more Injun than ye do. I knew somethin’ was wrong th’ minute I see that picter-writin’. “Ye made a mistake when ye put in so many hosses. I’ve been watchin’ ye all th’ time. I follered ye yesterday. I found th’ signs where ye met a small band 0’ Kiowy after quittin’ me. I found where yer trail j’ined theirs. Ye had a pow-wow with ’em an’ rigged it f’r °em to jump th’ train With an animal shriek of rage the lithe ‘body of the scout lengthened out in a murderous leap, his right hand flashing a long knife. But Silent was a second the quicker, his left hand flirting Two Birds’ blanket into the breed’s infuriated face while his right swung back the heavy aX. me COLONEL = VRAIN’S train | jumped by thirty Kiowy at Cimar- ron Crossin’. Injuns licked. Lost fifteen braves—Texas Charlie wiped out near th’ Caches!”’ “My God! The seventh!” gasped the commander. “Ve should thank th’ Lawd,” corrected Silent, dropping from his pony. ‘“F’r Texas makes th’ last. Come inside an’ T’ll tell ye why it’s a blessin’.” COnniclooolK< (C@