Adventure Magazine Cover, April 3, 1918 — page 129: what you’re looking at

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

Hidden Trails “What?” she teased. Johnny glared his displeasure at her levity. Dorothy smiled. “What does it matter about me?” in- quired Johnny bitterly. ‘‘I was only spend- in’ the afternoon. I’d like to know why yuh couldn’t ’a’ gone ridin’ with me, Dorothy.” ‘““*Vou never asked me, sir, she said.’ There, there, Johnny, you’ll ruin your per- fectly good features if you persist in frown- ing that way. Who’s with Harry?” “His sister.”’ Glumly. “She is?’ Dorothy’s dark eyes sparkled. She bit off a thread with a vicious click of white teeth. The color in her cheeks deepened. Johnny was totally oblivious to these manifestations of feminine interest. He was too busy feeling abused. The Slay tribe arrived. The gambler and Johnny were gravely restrained in their greeting. Not so the ladies. They kissed each other with great fervor and “My dear”’ before and after, and bestowed compliments with a buttery lavishness. The gambler introduced Johnny to Mrs. Wallace, and asked Dorothy if she was ready. “Right away,” she told him, reaching in- side the doorway for her quirt. ‘Be with you in three shakes. You go on and saddle Uu ees Slay lifted his hat to his sister and Johnny and departed for the corral. Dorothy fol- lowed a moment later, after strictly enjoin- ing Mrs. Wallace and Johnny to make themselves at home till she returned. Johnny trailed Dorothy with sulky eyes. He hated Slay. What right had the man to take Dorothy riding? “Won't your” Mrs. Wallace was saying. ‘“Won’t I what?” He stared at her without friendliness. “Won’t you talk to me? I’ve already asked you three times.”’ She had closed her parasol and now stood with her hands clasped over the round handle. There was a talented patch of court-plaster on her left cheek-bone. Her lips were slightly parted and her eyes were warmly pleading. She was very lovely, and she wanted him to talk to her. What small hands she had. ‘The prospect of a long afternoon, full of empty hours and ~ shimmering heat, decided Johnny. ‘““Ma’am, I’d shore admire to talk to yuh,” he declared solemnly. | 127 “Tt’s dear of you to say that,”’ she said. “T know you don’t mean it, but I really would like to make up to you for Dorothy’s absence ifi—if I could and you’d let me.” This was spreading the jam rather thick- ly, but man is an obtuse animal. grinned. | “T guess now you an’ I’d oughta get along together real well,’’ was his hearty endorse- ment. Mrs. Wallace smiled, and a fugitive dimple showed for an instant in her right cheek. “Suppose we go over to my house,”’ she suggested. “It’s near the river, and there’s almost always some breeze.” “That shore listens well,’’ said Johnny. “Let’s go.” They went. Half Main Street saw them go, and the whole town knew it ten minutes later. “Just watch her grin at him!” urged Mrs. Mace, flattening a snubby nose against a window-pane in her kitchen. ‘‘That’s the first time I ever seen her out walkin’ with a man,” declared Mrs. Rags- dale. ‘‘Move over, dear. I can’t see a thing. She’s wearin’ the gray again, ain’t she? Makes her look hump-shouldered, don’t it?” ‘Shore does, an’ that rose-color ain’t fit for a sallow thing like her to wear. She hasn’t color enough. Look! Look! See her walk. close to him. The brazen creature!”’ “TY always knew she was a hussy for all her quiet ways. The cat!” “Oh, she’s a sly minx. They’re the ones, Ella. The putty-faced things who act as if butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths, they’re the ones to look out for.” ‘‘She’s skinny as a rail,” contributed Mrs. Ragsdale, holding resolutely to the main road. “T’ll bet her legs ain’t thicker’n matches.” “Whose legs ain’t thicker’n matches?” asked Jim Mace, entering at the moment. ‘None of your business,’”’ his wife told him. ‘“Didja see that widow woman an’ Johnny Ramsay?”’ _ “Y’betcha. Johnny always was a lucky jigger.”’ “Oh, is that so? Well, if you think so, Jim Mace, I'll just thank you to keep such opinions to yoreself, an’ don’t you forget it neither! C’mon, Ella, let’s go in the side room. I believe she’s takin’ him home, an’ COnnICL@oo SS Johnny - (C@