Adventure Magazine Cover — page 108: what you’re looking at

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

98 poet he drew a cigaret-case of black eather with gold mountings. “Do smoke,”’ he begged. “Coffin nails,” grunted Mitcham in dis- gust. ‘“‘Naw—I chew.” ‘Just one.” “Well, I don’t want to break your ’eart, *Arold. Here’s a go.”’ “Now,” Rushton went on, “‘be so kind as to lend me your twelve-foot whip.” “Look, ’Arold,”’ quickly interposed Mitch- am, laying a placating hand on the other’s shoulder, ‘‘we ain’t got time to experiment. I’ll teach you later on. Takes quite a while to know ’ow to use one of these heavy fel- lows.”’ 7 For no understandable reason, however, he found himself handing the whip to Rush- ton. Was it possible that the shrimp had suddenly ordered in a chilly, stinging voice— “Hand it to me at once!”’ Or was he dreaming? Surely the shrimp would not dare address him like that. Of course not. Still, thought Mitcham, he might as well humor the silly little fop and let him cut himself up a bit. Teach him a good lesson. “Here y’are,” he announced as if con- ferring a favor. ‘‘Now what?” His question was quickly answered. Backing away a few paces to be well out of harm’s way and the better to enjoy the fun, he was astonished, then amazed, to see the long lash leave the ground and writhe in a hissing circle in answer to the deft quick play of Rushton’s almost motionless wrist. “Luck,” Mitcham told himself. ‘Any fool can do that first off.” Then he sprang back, mouthing angry oaths, for the lash had leaped out toward him and exploded loudly within inches of his face. “Put it down!” he shouted. ‘‘Can’t you see you're going to hurt somebody?” Rushton, his countenance betraying marked signs of sleepy boredom, was per- forming double cracks and figures of eight. “Stop it, —— you!” brayed Mitcham, red-eyed and spluttering because he had almost been injured. He was so mad that he took unnecessary risks and sidled in as close as possible with the intention of wrenching the whip out of Rushton’s hand. Without warning the lash again came straight at him, quick as lightning, and it cut in two, and very neatly, the cigaret that dangled between his lips. Adventure His subsequent remarks were monoto- nous for his vocabulary was not very rich. Rushton halted his demonstration the bet- ter to listen to the flow of oratory. When it tarried he said briskly: “All right, Mitcham, don’t bother about the next instalment. We part company right here and now. I’m not keeping you. Here’s your whip and good day.” And Mitcham, while he longed to choke the offender, was forced to plead fcr fully half an hour before he was reinstated. When peace was patched up several uncertainties no longer existed. Rushton was recognized as the head of the undertaking, they were to do without extra stockriders, and Mitcham was to give up the use of unnecessary pro- fanity. Grievous to relate, he was not con- tent to apologize, he positively crept and crawled, for he wanted at any price to get Rushton out in the open, away from civili- zation, and there, as he delicately put it, to ‘rive the guts out’n him.’ “Why, ’Arold,”’ he protested, “if you ain’t a wonder! Fancy you knowing ’ow to use a bull-whip, and a twelve-footer at that! And, ’Arold, I’m mighty glad I got you for a partner, you’re that modest I'll lay you know lots more’n you let on to most people, but we’re going to work together and even if old man Burdette won’t buy us out we can make pots of money on our own. Where d’you learn that trick, you tell me that now?” Rushton was pulling on his gloves again. “Oh, I picked it up somewhere or other,”’ he said evasively. “I think it was in Ne- vada. No, it must have been Arizona——”’ “In the States, eh? You been there?”’ “I have been everywhere,’ Rushton ad- mitted modestly, “if you except the two Poles and the Ashanti country.”’ “Vou liar,” thought Mitcham. But aloud he said: “Ts that a fact, ’Arold? My, my! You must ’ave seen lots of interesting things. I wisht I ’ad your luck.” Peace being fully restored a compromise was reached on the subject of extra help, for some one was really needed to drive the ox-cart that was to carry the supplies. Mitcham’s selection was rejected. He had had in mind an aged ruffian who would have made an efficient accomplice but an indif- ferent worker. Rushton, with unexpected foresight, picked out a loose-limbed and gloomy young man by the name of Lund, Go DOOLK 1e@)