Adventure Magazine Cover, April 3, 1918 — page 133: what you’re looking at

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

Hidden Trails CHAPTER XI VERY STRAY MEN “LYE SHORE wanted me stretched— bad,” conceded Johnny. “W’at you t’ink—dees Slay she was one of dem bushw’ackair?” inquired Laguerre, his hard black eyes glittering. “He wasn’t one of ’em,” Johnny said decidedly. “How you know?” The half-breed was now wholly the In- dian. One saw back of those hard eyes the long, long line of relentless hunters of man. “In the first place the hosses they rode was two chestnuts and a blacktail dun. His hoss was a big black. He’s got several— two grays an’ a red-’n’-white pinto, too.” “Huh,” grunted Laguerre. “I weel look at de face o’ dees man. I have de feelin’— but I weel firs’ look at hees face, me. How far now to de plass w’ere dey keel OI’ Man Fane un Beel Homan?” “About two mile.” “Lemme see dat watch, Johnnee.” Johnny handed his friend the shattered watch that had once been Homan’s. “Dees ees deir firs’ meestak,’’ observed Laguerre. “Bimeby dey mak anudder un anudder, un den we catch dem, by gar. De meestak, de meestak, alway de meestak. I have been de scout, I have leeve wit’ Enjun, un I know, me.” So, holding converse on the ways of malefactors, red and white, they came to the scene of the murders and their attendant robbery. Three parts eaten by wolves, an offense to eye and nostril, Fane’s dead horse lay by the side of the road. Breath- ing through their mouths, the two men forced their mounts up the side of the spur to the pocket among the pines where the road-agents had tied their horses. The sign was more than seventy-two hours old, and it had been partly oblitera- ted by the feet of Scotty and the investiga- ting committee, yet Laguerre looked quite pleased. “Dey tie two pony to dat pine,” said he. “She ees de same pine un dem cayuse nevair move. One of dem'stand on t’ree leg un point de off toe. See how deep ees de mark o’ dat toe. She was stand dere long tam un was not move, dat cayuse. Dere was not de skeetair to mak dem move mabbeso. Dey was de pony wit’ de good 131 nature lak de lamb. Dey was tie wit’ de rein. Dey was not even gnaw de bark. “But look dere. Look w’ere de odder hoss was tie. She was move ’roun’ de tree —geet all tangle’ up. She was switch de tail—see dem hair on de quakin’ asp. Un dem hair ees black. She was de dun hoss. She bite de bark. She pull back on de rope. How I know dat? Well, den, I have de eye, me, un I see w’ere leetle t’read o’ de rope ees steeck een de bark. Dey ees steeck een hard, un dat ees how I know de hoss pull back. “Dat dun was kick, too. See de mark o’ hees shoe on dat pine. Here w’ere hees fore feet stan’. Long way ’tween dem two mark. She was de longleg hoss, dat dun cayuse. Shore I know you could not see all dat w’en dey was cross de creek, Dey was ride fas’ un de watair was fly ’roun’. But I know, bien sure. Un all t’ree pony was shod. Gimme de match, my frien’. No hurry goin’ to de Ben’ now. I wan’ for geet dere aftair de sun have set.” “We've got somethin’ to go on,” re- marked Johnny, when both cigarets were burning well. “We have got one ’ole lot for go on,” softly corrected Laguerre. ‘‘We know dat one dese men use de 40-65 Winchestair, two pony ees de good-nature’ ches’nut un one ees de long-leg blacktail dun w’at enjoy for bite de tree un keeck un pull back un have for be tie wit’ de rope. Dat blacktail dun, I tell you, my frien’, she ees anud- der meestak. Dere can not be many pony lak dees hoss. . No, dere can not. You will see.” Laguerre inhaled with complacency. He stretched his arms lazily and blew smoke through his nostrils and smiled a slow smile and licked his lips cat-fashion. Johnny had given his friend a circum- stantial account of events at the Bend. Which account, it must be said, lacked completeness in that Johnny neglected to mention Mrs. Lotta Wallace, her actions, and his call upon her. Somehow he did not feel it was necessary. Why drag her in? At dusk Johnny and Laguerre separated, the latter to ride the trail in to the Bend, the former to cross the Yellow Medicine, and, ever keeping that stream on his left hand, skirt the sprawling length of Crow Mountain, strike the Flying-M trail at COnnicloookxs (C@