Adventure Magazine Cover — page 163: what you’re looking at

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

The Grub-Line way,” he told himself as he mounted and rode at a lope towards the Slash R camp. “By tomorrow night we have de Steve Dun- lap behin’ de jail bars.” SUNRISE of the next morning found the two partners in the saddle and well on the way to Steve Dun- lap’s homestead. ‘They crossed the ridge and swung into a wide trail that led to the cabin below. “‘Gosha’mighty, Tad! Looky! Somethin’s goin’ on down there!” The jocular reply died unspoken on Tad’s lips and the grin on his tanned face disap- peared as if by magic. “Four saddle hosses standin’ by the corral and a bunch uh gents there by the cabin. Bet it’s the Slash R spread up to some orn’ariness, Shorty. Let’s go!” Tad spurred his horse to a run and Shorty followed on the big pinto. Both of them kept their right hands close to their guns. A swirl of white dust and they set their horses back on their haunches, ten feet from the group of men in front of the cabin. Ribs Austin, Frenchy, a Slash R cow- puncher and a big man wearing a sheriff’s star on his vest turned to greet the new- comers. Steve Dunlap, his wrists fastened by handcuffs, stood by the sheriff. Steve’s tanned face was set and drawn and his eyes blazed defiantly. He looked a trifle relieved as he saw who the two new arrivals were. ‘“What’s the row, gents?” asked Tad, meeting Austin’s scowl with a cold stare. “We caught this cow-stealin’ nester red-handed, that’s all,” sneered Ribs, his tone exultant. “T wasn’t talkin’ to you, Austin. speakin’ to the sheriff.” ‘“‘Dunlap’s done put his foot in it,” said the sheriff. ‘Fresh beef in his meat house and a Slash R hide hid under the haystack. He never even took the trouble to cut the brand out. It ain’t no pleasure to go ar- restin’ a boy like Steve Dunlap but I jest nacherally gotta.” ‘“How about it, son?” asked Tad, looking at Steve. “Y’m doin’ my talkin’ through a lawyer, I was Mister,” replied the youth grimly. “I been framed, that’s all.” “Frame, eh?” grinned Frenchy. ‘We see "bout dat.” The breed turned to the sheriff. “Yesterday, bout sundown, when 11 161 I’m see de Steve run de cow down de coulée han’ shoot heem, I’m see two more feller hon de reedge. De two feller see de Steve shoot de beef, den she’s ride off, dem two feller. You know who she ees, dem two? She’s Shorty han’ Tad who sit hon de hoss han’ ask ’bout what’s de row!”’ The breed pointed to the two astonished partners. The sheriff eyed the two punchers sharply: “How about it? Is this breed speakin’ the truth?” “‘We seen Steve Dunlap, er a feller that looked like him, shoot a beef yesterday evenin’,’’ admitted Tad reluctantly. “But I figgered he was butcherin’ his own stuff. We never rode down to see.” “Tt was my own critter,’’ Steve put in hotly. “I butchered him and hung his hide on the fence.”’ ‘““Where is the hide, Steve?’ asked the sheriff. “Tt disappeared in the night. Afore I had time to hunt it this mornin’ you gents rode up and arrested me.” “It disappeared, all right,’’ sneered Ribs. ‘‘And we found it in the place where it dis- appeared to. Under the haystack. Yore best bet is to plead guilty and take yore medicine like a man, Mister Rustler.” ‘‘Where’s yore pardner?” asked Shorty. ‘“Where’s the Pat feller?”’ The pounding of a horse’s hoofs pre- vented an answer. The next moment a girl dressed in a worn and faded riding-habit, jerked her mount to a halt and slipped to the ground. “Patsy!” cried Steve hoarsely, as the girl ran toward him and took her place by his side. She made a striking picture as she faced Ribs and Frenchy. Her tanned cheeks flushed with anger, her large dark eyes blazing, she looked like a tigress defending her young. ‘“What’s the meaning of this outrage?” she asked the sheriff. That gentleman turned brick-red as he removed his hat and shifted his weight un- easily from one foot to the other. ‘“‘[’m shore sorry, Miss Darcey. I shore am. But I gotta take Steve into town. Austin’s swore out a warrant fer him and it looks plumb bad fer the boy.” “Don’t worry, Pat,” said Steve, forcing a smile. ‘‘I’il come clear. I’m innocent. I'll get outa this somehow.”’ NOOK C© in