Adventure Magazine Cover, November 10, 1924 — page 144: what you’re looking at

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

142 “Purty strong lan’widge, brother,” he said with his hands aloft. “Git on that pony,” ordered the big man. ‘Here, ‘Butch’ tie the old bird’s mitts.” The little fellow went about it with alacrity. ‘Aw right, now we go over an’ see whose poachin’ on our sillimanite preserve.” “You got claim notices posted?” asked Drift, suddenly concerned. The Jittle man replied quickly: “No, but we heered ’bout it——” “Shut up!” roared the big man. Drift was quite delighted as they started off across the basin. He considered lead- ing them astray, but felt it would accom- plish nothing. They would encounter Mel- vin anyway, and they seemed to know the general direction of the sillimanite lode. It was better he and Melvin be together. Nearing the shoulder of the mountain where Melvin was going through the first steps of location, the two captors circled a rising hillock and a lava outcropping, arriving at an eminence overlooking a small, sand-drifted valley which spread to the base of the mountain. Melvin was discernible coming down from a small ravine a hundred yards distant. It was soon evident that Melvin saw them, for he raised his right hand in signal. He had half-way crossed the small basin when he must have sensed treachery, for he swung sharply, but a moment after he did so, a cloud of dust surrounded the spot where he had been. The smaller man, with a rifle, had shot Melvin’s pony be- neath him. “TI guess we mean business,” laughed the small man harshly for the ears of Drift. Melvin emerged from the dust cloud, stood for a moment in uncertainty, then slowly raised his hands as he saw the futility of matching bullet for bullet with small arms. He approached the group and Drift was elated at his partner’s composure. “‘These gents don’t seem to rattle afore they strike,’ Drift addressed Melvin. Then he turned to the large man, ‘‘Well, what'll ye have?” The other’s eyelids fluttered and nar- rowed. “Just want that claim notice tore up, tha’s all.” “What am I offered to do it?” asked Melvin coolly. Adventure “Yer pack train an’ one hour to beat it if you do; a plot of land six feet by two if you don’t,” spoke up the little man known as Butch. “T’ve sort of got set on a plot fifteen hun- dred by six hundred, according to the mining laws,”’ said Melvin. “It’s a hard choice.”’ ‘Well, you better make it sudden,” interposed the larger man with an ugly leer, “‘because there ain’t no minin’ laws in this deal.’ ¢ ‘We 3) It happened in a twinkling, yet there was a brief hiatus before Melvin or the two bri- gands knew what had taken place. Then Melvin saw that Drift’s horse was clattering over the lava outcropping, Drift bound but clinging desperately. At the moment Melvin knew that Drift would be back to ambush their assailants, the small man who held the rifle knew it, and the small man shot once, and horse and rider tumbled. But the small man did not shoot a second time, for Melvin had the end of his rifle- barrel, and the two were rolling in the dust, madly clawing for the brigand’s revolver. To Melvin’s astonishment his uppermost emotion was an ineffable joy. He saw that the big man was the slow thinker, for he stood for a moment stunned by events, and when he ‘went into action he received a kick in the chin that was only a few pounds short of disaster for him. The _ burros, shy beasts at best, scattered in alarm as the big fellow rolled at their feet. The surge of joy in Melvin persisted, like a wave reluctant to retreat from a beach. It was inexplicable. The big man slowly arose, white fury in his face, Melvin caught that in the tail of his eye, thought in a flash he should leap to the other, yet he was chained to the little man by that obscure joy of conflict. Then it was clear to him, through the cloud of dust, through the mist of sweat. The little man had killed Drift, Melvin believed. The thought was bare and raw. : He had the little man’s gun half from its holster, now. It was anguished muscle against anguished muscle, hand against hand. The big man still floundered about for his automatic lost in the sand. Melvin felt his little finger snap. Grunt- ed a smile into the dry dust. He loosed his other hand from the grasp of his adver- sary. Brought it to bear on the gun. He CoMmicboolk A) © 5}