Adventure Magazine Cover — page 59: what you’re looking at

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

Three Wise Men “Why, here’s your sack, Hank, right here,” bellowed Spade jovially in his best saloon-welcome manner, being exceedingly anxious to retain the esteem of Henry Blane. “Shure,” seconded Carver, equally as merrily. ‘“‘We was only bringin’ it along for ye to have whin ye woken up, Hennery.” He added his hand to help Spade lay the sack in Henry’s lap. Jim Moore, too, put forth a hand to assist in the presentation. “Well I be blowed,” gasped Henry, all precedent shaken to the foundation. Then, seeing Obadiah hovering on the outskirts of the trio, Henry suddenly understood. **Ho, there’s a parson.” He settled back in relief. “Got a parson in camp, hev you? I see now—he made you bring it along. Didn’t you, parson? How’d you do it, anyhow? ‘They’d got off with it ef you hadn’t been watchin’, that I know. Me, too, like as not. Eh, parson?” “W-w-why, no. I—I’m not a reg’lar parson, I—I just try to be. An’ they—” Obadiah strove to believe he was telling the truth—‘‘they aimed to bring it along, all right. They’d fixed you up ’thout me.” “Tl bet they would,” grunted Henry Blane positively. “Ym Gowdy,” Spade began heartily. “T run the Nugget Saloon here in camp. When you git to feelin’ like it come around and we'll show you a good time. The place’ll be yours, an’ the house foots the bill. This here’s Dan Carver, one of my best bar-men. And this here’s Jim Moore, one of the camp’s biggest sluicers. He owns a mess of the best placer claims along the gulch. An’ say, Hank, being’s you’ve already staked off what you want of your new discovery, can’t you let us in on what’s left?”? Spade paused expectantly. Henry looked around dubiously. “We-e-ll,” he began slowly, ‘‘they ain’t much use tellin’. They’s only ’bout room for one more stakin’. Yeh, just bout room for one more. ‘lain’t no cause for a stam- pede, as they’s only room for one more.” “Only one?” wailed Spade in dismay. “Thought you said it was a long one.” “Well, it is a long one, considerin’ the quality. Six feet of it ’d make rich men out o’ a dozen paupers. Minute I see thet outcrop I begun puttin’ up stakes an’ monument rocks like a steamboat nigger hustlin’ watermelons out o’ a melon patch at night. Then, like a fool, I chips off this forty pound o’ ore an’ hikes for to 45 record. I’m here now, ain’t I? An’ ina minnit I’ll be over at the recorder’s office, yeh.” “Just right,” assented Moore, “that’s - the way to do business. But now, consid- erin’ who picked you up, savin’ yore life, so to speak, why not go ahead an’ tell us where this ledge is, so we c’n get what’s left. We'll stake her an’ divide it amongst us.”” Still Henry Blane was reticent. ‘“‘“Aw, come on, Hennery,” Carver whee- dled. “We won’t tell anybody. There'll be no stampede. We'll just slip out an’ stake her off an’ come back and record. Jist look who saved yer life.” ‘Jus’ look!” mumbled Henry, his eyes roving over his saviors. ‘‘Yeah, jus’ look! Still, I reckon I mought as well tell you fellers as anybody else. You can fight it out amongst yerselves. [ got mine all safe, an’ there’s a million in sight left over, so you oughtn’t have much trouble dividin’ it. Now listen—I’m only goin’ to say it jus’ once: “Tt lays in a little cafion on this slope of the Jackear Mountains, about the middle of the range, nearest the peaks. To git there go out to Sandy Spring, thirty mile © west of El Oro, and then slew off southwest straight toward them Jackears. When you find the right cafion, foller up it till you come to a break—a plumb, blank wall that juts right up out o’ the canon bed. This falls is white rock—you’ll know it when you see it if you’ve had to trace a dozen other cafions before you hit the right one, Well, when you find this white wall in the cafion, you'll know you’re in the right one, so go on over and follow up the cafion about a quarter mile more, where you'll come to a spring with some grass around it. ‘“‘There’ll likely be a couple o’ burros there—mine. I left ’em there so’s to make better speed gettin’ here. It’s a turrible rough country between here and there— straight up an’ down, and a jack can’t hardly make it, an’ feed’s scarce as honesty in politics. I wanted to come straight across and climb the bluffs where I pleased, so I left my burros behind. It'd take two days longer with jacks.” “Ves, I know it’s rough country,” con- conceded Moore. “I been as far as Sandy Spring and I could see it’s rougher ’n beyond. Go ahead an’ tell us how to find your ledge after we get to the spring where Gomicbooks.com