Adventure Magazine Cover — page 109: what you’re looking at

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

The Lord of the Stony Rises who was discovered sitting on the top rail of a fence staring at nothing in particular. During the interview with Rushton he mo- mentarily lost all power of coherent speech and seemed to be on the verge of hys- terical collapse. Mitcham, noting this sign, promptly decided that for his purpose Lund would do as well as any man and set him- self to cultivate the youth’s friendship. That night over their last pint of beer at the Rose and Crown he opened his cam- paign. “Vou see,” he said to Lund, “‘it’s me what’s reely behind this ’ere venture. Make no mistake about that. ’Im, little putty- face, ’e’s just doing what I says. I got to keep under cover for reasons you'll find out later, but I’m the real boss of this outfit. I’m just telling you all this quiet and friend- ly-like to show you ’ow things stand. What I want I get. See? Just now I want to do Burdette in the eye and after that maybe T’ll keep this herd and settle down——’”’ Lund nodded drowzily— ‘‘But supposing he wants tokeep the herd?” “Oh, ’e won’t. ’E’ll get tired of living in the backblocks. Trust him. ’E’s just a—a—well, you know what I mean. Not that I don’t like ’im. Clever chap, is ’Arold—that’s what I calls ’im because of us being such good friends. But he ain’t strong.’’ The idea pleased Mitcham. “No, ’e ain’t what you might call strong and I dunno whether ’e can stand the ’ardships you and me can stand. ’E might peg out— pore boy!” “Lumme!” “Course I don’t expect nothing like that to ’appen. But ’e’s ’ad warnings. Only this morning ’e says to me— “Old pal, if anything ’appens to me everything I got is yours.’ “That’s what ’e says to me. And if the worst should ’appen, well then, you'll be all right because I’ll look after you.” The effect of his words upon the callow youth was unforeseen. “You mean,” shrilled Lund, “there’s a man knows he ain’t strong, knows he may not come back, and yet he goes straight ahead getting ready to go? That’s mighty fine and I take off my hat to Mr. Rushton. life looks a bit funny but his nerve is just right. What say you?” Taken aback Mitcham grunted: “Oh, yes—that’s one way of looking at it.” 99 “And anything I can do to help him,” Lund rushed on, “I'll do. My old man always used to say it wasn’t a man’s looks that meant anything, it was the size of his heart you had to go by.” “That’s just it,” sighed Mitcham, “Is ’eart is weak. I tell you, Lund, we’re going to be in clover . Then the landlord of the Rose and Crown, leaning across the counter, remarked sen- tentiously: “You be careful, Tad Mitcham, my la-ad, you don’t go to jail. Mark my words. And this is a decent house. You, Lund, go home. You’ve had more’n enough to drink as it is.” ke the banks of Lake Wurumbugee _\ 1 glowed the dying embers of the camp-fire. Occasionally a little tongue of flame leaped up and for a second dispelled the thick darkness. Wrapped in his blan- kets Lund slept the sleep of the just and the weary. From the depths of the covers drawn well over his head issued rythmical snores, not unlike the shuddering sound made by a buzz-saw striking a nail. His steel-shod heels lay within a few inches of the hot ashes, his toes pointed sky- wards. On the other side of the fire, against the wheels of the dray, lay the gray cocoon, which at every dawn gave birth to the pa- jamaed figure of Mr. Harold Rushton. He did not sleep with his clothes on, not even his socks. His garments hung beneath the dray like faithful servitors awaiting his good pleasure. There hung the white whipcord breeches, the steel-gray coat and the double- breasted waistcoat to match. There, too, was the white piqué stock that by day so thoroughly enveloped its owner’s throat. On the bucket-hook rested his gray derby. Black top-boots with little box-spurs stood rigid as sentinels in front of the line. No sound came from the cocoon, no move- ment, for the very good reason that Mr. Rushton was not, on this particular occa- sion, inside his covers. He lay on top of the dray, stretched at full length, and kept as still as possible; not very still, however, for whichever way he moved angular objects concealed beneath the tarpaulin jutted into odd portions of his anatomy. He had not chosen the spot for its comfort but, rather, for its strategic value. It was not exposed BENEATH the gum-trees close to Co DOOLK 1 O)