Adventure Magazine Cover, April 3, 1918 — page 127: what you’re looking at

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

Hidden Trails take a chance on departure. Between spiders and itchings and incipient sneezes the locality was fast losing itscharm. But knowledge of the many tin cans held him back. There was an ancient cast-off stove somewhere about, too. If he should fall over that! Centuries became eons, and eons became eternity before there was an appreciable lessening of that distressful sobbing on the wagon-seat. Johnny’s first-formed esti- mate of Mrs. Wallace had been gradually altering. By the time her sobs gave way to long-drawn gasping breaths his opinion utterly opposed that of Scotty. He could not understand how she could remind Scotty of a leopard. Why, she was just a little wretched girl, crying her heart out, and that was all. Johnny felt quite sorry for her. Which, could he have but known it, is a most dangerous feeling when the lady con- cerned is as beautiful as was Mrs. Wallace. Z mb) THERE WAS a deep sigh from the "| aforesaid lady, and then a rustling and a scraping as she swung down over the double-tree to the ground. White shawl trailing across one shoulder she headed back toward the Broken Dollar. Johnny stretched legs and arms in aching relief and dodged ’round the pole of the freight-wagon to where he could follow her with his eyes. He saw her figure become one with the darkness and then reappear with magic- - lantern abruptness under one of the lighted windows of the Broken Dollar. Here she halted, produced from her bosom a small glittering object, held it before her face, and dabbed at her features with an article the size and shape of a small apple. “Powderin’ her face, poor h’l thing,” commented Johnny. “‘I’ll bet her eyes are some swole.”’ The back door of the saloon opened. Slay stood in the doorway. “Lotta! Lotta!’’ he called. ‘Here I am,” she replied, almost at his elbow. ‘‘There’s no need to yell your head off.” “Didn’t see you,” he said crossly. ‘‘Come in here quick. What’s the matter with your Why did you leave the wheel?” “Because I felt like it!’ she flung back, smoothing a perfect eyebrow with the ball of her thumb. “Oh, I see. Suppose you come in then— if you feel like it.” 125 ‘“‘When I feel like it, I will.” She powdered her nose again with mad- dening deliberation. ‘“‘Come in here at once!”” The command lost most of its force because Slay pettishly stamped his foot. “Of course, you frighten me to death when you do that,” she observed sweetly. “Why don’t you drag me.in by the hair?” ‘“‘Are you coming ine” “I meant to, but since you ve been so pleasant, I think Vl go home.” Slay stepped back and slammed shut the door. Mrs. Wallace returned mirror and powder-puff to their hiding-place, blew a kiss at the closed door, and walked slowly ’round the corner of the building. ‘Shore got a mind of her own, that one,” remarked Johnny. ‘‘Maybe she ain’t such a poor li’l thing after all.” Pondering the unexpectedness of woman, Johnny cautiously diagonaled across the open ground to where, beyond the outer- most shack, Main Street became a trail. Here he turned townward and, walking lei- surely, came to the Broken Dollar, pushed open the door, and entered. The long wide barroom was filled with tobacco-smoke and customers. The to- bacco-smoke hung in layers in the atmos- phere. The customers hung in suspense upon the turn of the cards and the caprice of a tiny ball dancing within a sunken wheel of many pockets. Johnny did not pause at the door. He walked without haste between the tables to the bar at the other end of the room. There were only three men standing at the bar. One was the hard-faced Tom Keen, he of the two guns, Ganey of the dyed mustache, and a sharp-featured citizen known as Spill Harper. ‘These three turned and surveyed him as he approached. Johnny gave them stare for stare, fronted up to the bar, rang down a quarter and called for whisky. The bartender shoved forward a bottle and a glass. Johnny poured out a scant two fin- gers, cupped his left hand ’round the glass, and leaned sidewise against the bar. His attitude was lazy and his demeanor careless, but his half-shut sardonic eyes missed no detail of what was passing under the hanging lamps in that big room. He perceived that fully half the men in the place were neglecting their play to watch him. Some of them nudged each other and whis- pered among themselves, but when his eyes COnniElooo S (C@