Adventure Magazine Cover, April 3, 1918 — page 125: what you’re looking at

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

Hidden Trails have overthrowed an’ missed the quicksand —shore. Course he was tryin’ to sink the watch in the quicksand. What else?” “T guess yo’re right,’”’ concurred Johnny. “This watch shore goes to show the road- agents live in town or near it.”’ ‘Shore does,” said Scotty Mackenzie. CHAPTER IX THE OTHER WOMAN OHNNY spent the afternoon with the hospitable Dorothy. The lady, as she tidily darned her father’s socks, did not find Johnny an inspiring companion. She was neither accustomed to silence nor mono- syllabic replies. She did not realize that her visitor was deep in a mathematical prob- lem and making an exceedingly boggy ford of it. One and one will simply not make four no matter how many times you add or multiply them together. But Johnny was a persistent soul. He kept right on juggling Bill Homan’s watch and his own suspi- cions till supper-time arrived and brought not the remotest hint of a satisfactory answer. Whereupon Johnny put on his hat and departed hotelward—to see a man. ‘Yeah, he’s a great friend o’ mine,” he told Dorothy. ‘‘I’d like to stay to supper, honest I would, but I got my own sinful pride, an’ moochin’ one meal a day off a lady is my limit. G’by.” Dorothy was left sputtering indignantly. After supper, and a most indifferent meal it was in comparison with his dinner, he went over to Ragsdale’s store and spent a tobacco-laden hour gossiping with Soapy. Jim Mace came in and the hour lengthened to two, and darkness fell, and it was night. About ten o’clock Johnny stood up on his feet and yawned and stretched his long arms and legs till they cracked. “T guess [li kind o’ take a look ’round town,” he observed. “Veah,” said Jim Mace, his eye lighting. “Ts that a saloon across the street, or do my eyes deceive me?” “You, Buster!” bawled Ragsdale. “C’min here an’ take the store. I gotta go out ona li’| business.” Johnny’s chief wish at that moment was to be about his own business. But his two friends did not seek to further that wish. Their earnest desire was to make it a large evening. ‘To which end they hung Johnny 123 and themselves over the bar of the Three Card and invited all and sundry to join them. Johnny took a small part of one drink, after which, by the exercise of some strategy and all his natural agility, he contrived to escape through a rear window. Standing well back and to one side of the splayed light from the window, Johnny heard Soapy and Jim call on him by name, and finally leave hurriedly by the front door. “Let ’em hunt,” he grinned. ‘Me, I got business.”’ He turned and looked along the irregular line of rear elevations. There was the Golden Rule—those three small glowing windows. Beyond it the houses were dark —private residences. Beyond these again was a dim light—the stage station. The dark bulk adjoining the stage station was, he knew, the rear of the Broken Dollar saloon and gambling-joint. ‘There were six win- dows and a doorway in the rear wall of the Broken Dollar’s back room, but all were dark. “‘Slay’s shore economical o’ light in that back room,”’ was Johnny’s idle comment, as he started toward the stage company’ S corrals. Johnny’s objective was the Broken Dol- lar, which palace of chance he intended to surreptitiously approach from the other end of Main Street in order that his friends might not see him enter. For, should they see him, they would undoubtedly join him for his better protection. And Johnny wished to study his enemy unhampered by anyone. That Slay was his most vindictive enemy was certain. Why? Johnny could not understand why, and he intended to know why. That there was a certain element of risk attached to such close-range observation was true. But Johnny held to the cheerful opinion that hostilities would be riskier for Slay than for himself. As has been stated, Johnny was no marvel on the draw, but he possessed the ability to shoot accurately from the hip and through the bottom of his holster. Johnny, skirting the rear of the stage company’s two corrals, turned the corner of the second enclosure and fell over the pro- jecting tongue of a tiltless freight-wagon. He arose, swearing softly and rubbing barked shins. His hat had fallen off. He felt about for it in the darkness, and swore GOmiiGcsvoOo SoC)