Adventure Magazine Cover — page 175: what you’re looking at

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

The Grub-Line they might catch a glimpse of the prisoner. The last row of seats was packed solid by Slash R cow-punchers who had drifted into town during the night. : Apart from the rest of the outfit, well toward the front, Ribs Austin and Frenchy sat side by side. Austin’s battered features twisted in a sneering grin as he talked in a guarded tone to his companion: ‘Dang foolishness fer me and you to go janglin’ amongst ourselves, Frenchy. Iwas crazy drunk when I made that gun-play at camp. We got this Dunlap gent where we want him. See that dude-lookin’ gent down in front? That’s Trask, the law sharp from Helena. Best man in the State on these cases. Cost me several steers tuh hire him, but it’s worthit. Dunlap ain’t got a foot to stand on.” “She’s goner for shore, Reebs, dat Steve feller. Han’ den we get Ladd, eh?” Austin’s pig eyes reddened with hate as he felt of his bruised throat. “Git Ladd? Id tell a man we'll git him. Yo’re shore that Shorty gent is outa the way?” “Our. ‘Ten times I’m tell you ’bout dat.” “Then why don’t them two boys show up?” ‘““Mebbeso find more cattle down de crick below de bog-hole. Look! Here come de sheriff weeth Dunlap.”’ Coming in by a rear entrance were the sheriff, Steve, his attorney and Patsy Darcey. A moment later Tad Ladd saun- tered in and took a seat near them. The jury, seated in a corner of the room, whispered among themselves as they eyed the prisoner. A low murmur of voices swept over the courtroom, then suddenly hushed to silence as the judge entered and took his seat on the raised platform. On the flat-topped desk before the judge was a filled water pitcher, a glass and a sawed-off shotgun. The judge, a short, heavy-set man with bushy white hair and tanned face, ‘‘broke”’ the gun, examined the shells, then with a- nod of satisfaction, eyed the motley throng that watched him in awed silence. “Before the trial starts,”’ said the judge, his deep, sonorous voice filling the room, “I want to make one thing clear. I’m running this show, understand. No man, nor group of men, can intimidate me nor the jury. The prisoner on trial will get a square deal. In case any man here is ' testify in due time. 173 tempted to burn any powder, let him re- member that this scatter-gun is loaded with slugs and the law is on my side. Court’s open.” Two deputies entered, carrying a spotted hide, dripping with water. They draped the hide on a tall saw-horse that stood near the witness stand. “T kept it soakin’ in water so she wouldn’t dry out, yore Honor,” explained the sheriff. The judge nodded his approval. Ribs Austin, the sheriff, Frenchy and the Slash R puncher who had been at the Bar B ranch the morning of Steve’s arrest, were called to identify the hide. They stood grouped about the hide, all of them more or less embarrassed as the eyes of every person in the courtroom followed them. “That’s the hide, all right, eh Frenchy?” grinned Ribs, an exultant smile on his thick lips. “Out,” agreed the breed. “She’s dat same spot’ hide I’m find hin de haystack.” ‘“‘Same hide that’s been soakin’ in that tub since the evenin’ I brought it from the Bar B ranch, yore Honor,” added the sheriff. ‘The identity of the hide being ascer- tained, we’ll continue with the trial,’ an- nounced the judge. Steve Dunlap, a worried frown puckering his brows, turned to the sheriff as that gentleman took his seat beside the prisoner. ‘Looks like I was up against it, sheriff,” he whispered. The sheriff nodded gloomily. ““Yore Honor!” It was Tad Ladd who spoke and his voice carried to the far corners of the courtroom. ‘‘Yore Honor, I'd like to put in a word afore this trial goes any further.” “T object!’ shouted the Slash R attor- ney, springing to his feet. ‘“That man is a material witness and will be called to It is irregular és “Objection overruled,” the judge cut in. He turned to Tad. ‘‘Go ahead with what you have to say.” “Vo’re a cow-man yorese’f, ain’t yuh judge?”’ The judge nodded, suppressing a smile at the big puncher’s earnestness. “Then, afore this trial goes any fu’ther, I wisht you’d examine that there hide that the Sheriff and them Slash R gents has identified as the one that was in the hay- stack.” NOOK C@ in