Adventure Magazine Cover — page 137: 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 could not fire, for his hand gripping the gun was palsied. “Shoot!” Rushton’s face dissolved and only the eyes remained, the eyes of the woman, who had once lashed him across the face with a crop. “Shoot!” Rushton’s voice pierced through the din in his ears, a mocking taunting voice, un- afraid. The summons rang louder in Burdette’s ears as his racing heart flooded his brain with blood. His last conscious thought took him back thirty years in a flash. The gun dropped from his hand, he choked and pawed weakly at his collar, and he said—— “It’s all right, Mollie. I won’t hurt him.” He was dead before he reached the ground, but his grim lips were smiling as they had not smiled in thirty years when Rushton turned him over. ba the sunlit flats and out of the dust came bellows and the crackle of whips. The first drove was leaving the Stony Rises for Ballarat. Four hundred mud-fat bullocks complaining against their fate. Up the hill toward the newly finished house galloped Lund flushed and wide-eyed with excitement. He slid to the ground and waved his hat at Rushton, who reclined almost spineless in a vast wicker chair, a long carved ivory cigaret-holder between his lips. “We're off,” shouted Lund. “My dear man, you needn’t shriek,” Rushton reproved him. “TI see you are off. A COLUMN of.dust drifted across The symptoms are unmistakable.” “Well,” Lund remarked gruffly, “you me ae ce a =P ‘: ea et 127 can’t say they aren’t mud-fat, the whole blasted bunch.” “They plumped up prettily,’? admitted Rushton. ‘“‘We were wise to go to the Credion auction. I picked up those beeves forasong. Trala!” “Trala!”? snorted Lund. ‘Say—you’re quite sure you’re not coming? It’s our first bunch——” “Quite sure. I’m far too busy. Very, very busy. And, besides, one mob of cattle is very much like any other.” “All right,” said Lund, ‘‘so long.” “So long,” grinned Rushton, reaching out with his hand. “And don’t get lost. Every- thing has been attended to at the other end.” Lund’ shook hands again because he rather enjoyed the sensation and then wheeled abruptly about, mounted and dashed away. Rushton settled back in his vast wicker chair and inserted a fresh cigaret in his holder. For several minutes he reclined lazily as if he had not a care in the world. His face was blank, his body relaxed. Then, slowly, his fingers began to drum on the arm of the chair, his gaze shifted from the green-painted veranda ceiling to the moving cloud of dust. Several times he said em- phatically— “Ridiculous, childish, idiotic!” And then he was on his feet shouting orders in several directions at once. Some minutes later Lund riding down the flank of the herd to head off a ponderous bullock very nearly collided with his boss, who bore down upon him yelling like a two- year-old. “T knew darn well you’d come,” grunted Lund. ap 2e:* P. Mi ae ma he hme Fee ae at rave ; a ery) ry ae : “4 o F SR Seeder IN ¢ ' Sytedee 3 a id ai tae COmiclboooks (©