Adventure Magazine Cover — page 158: what you’re looking at

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

Nt ih awit i ry uh ENOUGH: leup, Ht ria Hn al il ee at ~ 3 Nh at the Granite Basin Mine was astir. Lights gleamed from the windows of the cook-shack, the bunk-house and the packers’ cabin. Lanterns flashed and moved about in the corral, where the muffled pounding of hoofs in snow arose and mingled with the profane remarks of the wranglers as they struggled with cinches and lashed the packs on vicious, half-broken horses. The dim light of early morning crept slowly down over the eastern ridges, re- vealing the basin’s rugged, encircling walls and the dark little cluster of cabins nestled in its snow-mantled bowl. was sufficiently light to see distinctly, the Granite Basin Mining Company’s twenty pack-horses stood in a long row at the hitch- ing rail, saddled and loaded, ready for the trail. The two packers, Dave Bradley and young Steve Mason, finished their break- fast and sauntered over to the corral, to be met at the bars by Jeff Rand, the super- intendent. “Morning, boys,” ‘Mornin’, Jeff.” Bradley paused with one hand uplifted to test the breeze. ‘Bad day to risk the ponies on that trail, Jeff,” he warned. ‘‘Feel them little puffs of warm air? Chinook startin’ up, sure as shootin’.”’ Rand glanced uneasily at the lead-gray sky. ‘“‘Boys, I sure hate to send you out, the was Rand’s greeting. Mt | Ss. i ie v0 Nee Loh @ oe os ONG before daylight the little camp By the time it © AS ENOUGH by ai Se Jain arvey way things look — but, by ——,, this is sure a case of ‘have to.’ ”’ He lowered his voice so the wranglers could not overhear. “Now just keep this under your hats, boys—there can’t be another pay-day in the camp until we get the smelter returns from this shipment. We’re broke—plenty of good rock in the mine, but no cash in the treasury. There’s forty sacks of hand- sorted high-grade in this load you’re taking down today—four thousand dol- lars’ worth, all told. It may be tough going, but for Cripes’ sake, boys, get the stuff through! Get half of it through if you can’t do any better—even that’d pull us through our present troubles, and with a safe margin to spare.” Bradley extended a hard, calloused hand to Rand. ‘““We’ll do our darndest, Jeff.”’ “That goes for me, too,’ Mason added quietly. The two packers saddled their own riding animals. The corral bars were lowered, and amid shouts of the wranglers the packed horses were led, dragged and driven one by one through the gate and strung out down the trail, Mason riding at the head of the line, setting the pace. A chorus of laughing farewells and warnings followed him, and he waved his hat in careless reply. When the last ore- laden animal had passed out, Bradley climbed into his saddle with a brief ‘‘So 148 long!”’ to Rand, and rode away at the rear of the long line of bobbing, swaying packs. ComilcloOoks C©@