Adventure Magazine Cover, April 3, 1918 — page 124: what you’re looking at

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

L22 mouth open a-honin’ for an invite. Can’t _foolme. I know.” “Ts that so?” snarled Johnny. “‘An’ if I was she’s none o’ yore business.”’ ‘You bet she’s my business. First thing T know one o’ you young fellers ’I be stealin’ my gal away, an’ I ain’t a-goin’ to let nothin’ like that happen, not while I have my health, y’betcha. What a fine an’ dandy color yuh got this mornin’, Dor’thy. I just noticed it.” The terrible old man smirked shamelessly at the two of them, straddled a chair and sailed his hat into a far corner. ‘““Veah, yo’re shore as nice-lookin’ as a li] red wagon with that color an’ all,” he remarked after a space devoted to the rolling of a cigaret. “You leave my color alone,” Dorothy told him, forking over the sizzling ham, “or I won’t feed you.” “Can’t scare me that way,” declared Scotty tranquilly. “Yuh know I never eat nothin’ here. I don’t dast. If I did, I wouldn’t have no appetite for ranch chuck, an’ that’s whatever.”’ “T merely wished to be polite,” sniffed disdainful Dorothy. | “That’s all right. I don’t mind. Be as polite as yuh like, Johnny, while Dor’thy is wrastlin’ that ham ’round the pan s’pose you’n me traipse over to the corral. I wanna show yuh somethin’ on my saddle.” At that particular moment, a saddle was not Johnny’s idea of something to look at. He greatly preferred remaining with Doro- thy. He accompanied Scotty in silence. ‘“Yo’re a fine detective,’ remarked Scotty, as they approached the Burr corral. “Who said I was?” yapped Johnny. “Not me,” Scotty told him. “I always tell the truth. There, there, crack yore face an’ smile. Yuh look so gloomersome yuh hurt my feelin’s.”’ Cf yore feelin’s. Whatcha wanna come mussin’ ’round here for makin’ fool remarks? She don’t like ’em.” “Do your” “No, I don’t.” “All right, all right, I was just wonderin’. It shore beats how a well-meanin’ gent gets tromped on nowadays. It wasn’t like that when I was a kid back East in Macpherson. No sirree, a pore ol’ feller like me was respected in them days.” Scotty gurgled out a sob and affected to wipe away a tear. Adventure “Yuh got somethin’ to say,” accused Johnny. ‘“Y’always have when y’act more like a fool than usual. Spit her out.” “Spit her out!’ groaned Scotty. “Such language! An’ my Johnny raised a Chris- tian! Djuh know where you'll go when you die, huh? You'll go to hell, that’s where yuh’ll go. Yessir, yuh’ll fry. An’ it’ll be yore own fault. Gawd knows I’ve warned yuh till my neck’s as dry as a covered bridge.” “Stop it!’ commanded Johnny. cha goin’ to say?” “Yuh don’t deserve to hear me say it. But me, I’m a forgivin’ sport. Yessir, yuh won’t find a more forgivin’, Gawd-fearin’ individjul in ten days’ ride. Look, darlin’, look at this.” Scotty Mackenzie fished something from the staple pocket on his cantle and held it toward Johnny. The latter took it won- deringly. ‘It’ had: once been a cheap silver watch. Now it was smashed beyond all hope of repair. It lay in Johnny’s palm, a battered glassless case, sprouting a tangle of springs and cogwheels. “Pretty lil thing,” commented Scotty. ‘“What’s it for?” asked the puzzled Johnny. “Tt ain’t to keep time, but I thought maybe it might come in handy for yuh. I found it this mornin’ right at the edge o’ that quicksand I’m fencin’ inat Wagon Slue.”’ “Well?” “Turn her over.” _ Johnny obeyed. On the back of the case had been rudely scratched the initials “W. H.”’ “Bill Homan’s initials,’ Scotty said quietly. ‘‘She’s Bill’s watch. I seen him look at her more’n once.” “An’ yuh found it right at the edge o’ the quicksand?” ‘Shore, this mornin’.”’ “Did any o’ yore outfit see it?” ‘“Nary a one. I was there three minutes ahead of ’em. An’ here this thing lay. An’ they wasn’t a hoofmark or heelmark within forty feet. I’m tellin’ yuh, Johnny, that this timepiece was throwed from across the river some time durin’ the night. I know she was throwed ’cause she'd dug into the ground where she landed an’ they was the ‘“What- -mark o’ how she’d rolled ’a li’l bit after landin’. An’ I know she was throwed durin’ the night ’cause if she’d been day- light the gent who slung her would never GomiiGcsdoo S (C@