Adventure Magazine Cover — page 106: what you’re looking at

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

96 “Your sense of smell must be singularly acute,’ murmured Rushton. “But as a matter of fact what you say does interest me very much. Coincidence, one might almost call it. Yes, coincidence. I know of stranger things that have never happened. Indeed I do! Here I have been in Mel- bourne for a week or more and until you knocked me down I had really given up hope of finding a kindred soul. Kindred souls are quite scarce this year. Tell me more about this scheme of yours. It in- terests me, as I said once before.”’ Mitcham passed a hand across his eyes. The situation seemed to be slipping out of his control. Slowly, almost wearily, he went over the whole ground once again, step by step. He explained Burdette and Bur- dette’s grasping meanness. He described himself as a man of sobriety, honesty and uprightness. He dwelt upon the value of the promised land—even as a permanent investment—and he went so far as to as- sert that though he did not make friends easily he was quite overcome by Rushton’s charm. And all the time a fresh and subtle thought was taking shape in his mind, for he despised Rushton through and through. If, he thought, he could induce this little popinjay to get together a herd and drive it west—well, the road would be long and lonely, and why should the popinjay share in the profits of a venture with which he had nothing to do beyond the financing? Some obscure trace of decency, or it may have been cowardice, must have lurked with- in Mitcham for in self-defense he concluded: “Of course, I wouldn’t expect no gennel- man like you to risk traveling on _horse- back all the way to the Shaw. You could stay here and reap the profits all snug and comfortable. Wouldn’t be no trouble.” Rushton’s eyelids fluttered slightly. “T think,” he said, “if you don’t mind I should like to see something of the interior of this vast continent. Moreover, I disap- prove of unearned increments. I want to work for my money.” “So you are coming in!”’ Mitcham almost shouted, much to the terror of the tea-room waitresses. “My very kind sir!”’ Rushton held up one well-kept hand. ‘Not so fast! I must in- vestigate a little before committing myself. I admit I am nibbling at the bait. The hook beneath it looks tempting enough to bite.” Adventure “But it’s rough——” “The hook? No, you mean the life out there. at’s to be expected.” ‘“‘And there’s Burdette, ’e——” “IT am anxious to meet him. Suppose we do our investigating together? You can give me pointers.” “A’right,’”? Mitcham agreed with alac- rity. ‘Come on then. Let’s be moving.” And he jumped up, refreshed and rein- vigorated at the double prospect of getting even with Burdette and of teaching the lit- tle shrimp not to be funny with his betters. Why he despised Rushton so wholeheart- edly he would have found it hard to say— probably because Rushton, in his estima- tion, was too smooth, too soft, too entirely refined. Not aman in fact. Merely a facile gabbler with more money than brains. Mitcham, however, made himself as pleasant as he could possibly be in his un- washed and ragged state. He had no in- tention of letting the despicable creature es- cape him. “?urry up, ’Arold, old man,” he called out. ‘‘We’ve a lot to do.” Harold, who was paying the check, said to the beribboned cashier: “The poor man is so impetuous! And d’you know, I feel it in my bones, if he can he’s going to murder me—he thinks so much of me! I saw it in his eyes; they’re so expressive! Only a penny change! Thank you.”’ The cashier tittered and then went as white as the rouge on her cheeks would al- low, for, woman-like, she knew that Rush- ton though he was a ‘funny cove’ had spoken no more than the. truth. vi v RUSHTON, much to Mitcham’s secret annoyance, was surprizing- ' ly thorough in his investigation. Vague and inconsequential though he seemed to be, he worked according to a very definite plan and in a week’s time the whole thing was suddenly wound up and settled. Mitcham found himself somewhat disin- herited. Instead of being a partner he was reduced to the hilarious position of salaried foreman, with a share of the profits, it is true, and the permission to call his em- ployer ‘Harold.’ As he explained to the landlord of the Rose and Crown where he made frequent calls: “This ’Arold business has got me rattled for fair. ’E does things so casual and Go DOOLK 1O)