Adventure Magazine, December 10, 1924 — page 201: what you’re looking at

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

The Camp-Fire So, after listening to all these things told by the association men, it was natural that the General should comply with their request and send the troops if called upon to do so. The price which I have stated as being paid to the raiders by the stockmen was told by some of the ex-members of the band themselves, and they also said that Frank Canton, the leader, had misrepre- - sented everything to them and, being strangers to that country and the men in it, they had believed him until they found out for themselves that it was nothing but a general killing expedition gotten up by the association to drive out all the nesters, small ranchmen, discourage the settlement of the land and thereby preserve the range for their vast herds of cattle and horses, and, failing, they were doomed and their day had passed forever. WHEN I started out to write, it was merely with the idea of a short letter to Camp-Fire in re- gards to the corrections made by Mr. F. W. Con- ness. What Mr. Bechdolt used I do not know, but I do know that the men in the cabin that were at- tacked were Nate Champion and Nick Ray, and that the man on the wagon of hay was not Tom King, but Jack Flag, and that all the other correc- tions I have made are correct, and all the rest of the narrative that I have written was told me by par- ticipators in the war and other incidents by eye-wit- nesses while I was living in and around Buffalo. Well, as I said once before, when I started in I in- tended this for Camp-Fire, but I have written so much that I don’t know where it does belong, or if it belongs anywhere. Am an ex-soldier myself. I enlisted in Cheyenne, Wyo., in the light battery and served in the Philip- pines in the Spanish-American Filipino insurrection. I served from 1898 until the fall of 99. Have been in Alaska for the last 15 years —JOoHN RAWSON. With the above came the following letter from Mr. Rawson. If I’ve left in it some pleasant things about our magazine, I’ve omitted more, so be easy on me, for praise from the old-timers is doubly appreciated and mighty hard not to pass on to every- body. This is my first offense in this line and it may be the last, but I thought that possibly you might find a little stuff in that mess of junk I am inclosing that would be of interest to you or some of the old West- ern readers, as the descriptions of events at the time are all facts. I have read your magazine for years and in all kinds of places. I have read it here in Alaska away back in the interior where it had to be packed in by dogs or horses for three hundred miles over glaciers, mountain streams, and through a country unin- habited except by wolves and wild game. Some- times men would lose their way in a snow-storm or it would get so cold that they would freeze to death and never be found until their bones had been picked clean. The place that I speak of was a mining- camp, and when we would get one of your maga- zines it would cost us $1.50 per copy, but we were glad to get them at almost any price. I have read many stories in Adventure of countries that I have been in and the topography and charac- ters are both very familiar to me, which makes the 179 story the more interesting. Then I am quite a reader of ‘(Camp-Fire’”’ and I think that is one of the most interesting sections of the whole magazine. The discussions that one usually finds going on and the exchange of ideas is interesting and educational, in some instances. I wish that I could see your plant in New York and that you could see Alaska in exchange. I think that our magnificent mountains and our noble Mt. McKinley with its old hoary head that rears itself into the sky for over twenty thousand feet, would be a sight for you to see. Add to that the wild game, and the wild grandeur in general of the country would leave a lasting impression on you that you would often think about on a hot Summer’s day in your office when you had the collar of your shirt rolled down and the sleeves rolled up.—J. R. Well, Mr. Rawson, if you ever do come to New York, the office door hangs mighty free on its hinges, particularly to our old- timers. FRAGMENT out of a letter to Arthur D. Howden Smith from a reader in appreciation of the Swain stories. Mr. Smith sent it to me becayse the words “Bowyer and Fletcher’ in modern type across a modern letter-head were startling and dramatic to him and he thought I might find them the same. I did. Entirely with my eyes open I give Mr. Stemmler’s address, Adventure thereby giv- ing him a free advertisement for his business. I don’t know him personally, but a man whose business is the making of long bows in these advanced days of poison gas and other similar evidences of civilization and enlightened development certainly deserves to be advertised among us who have a liking for manly things however old. I want to give a fair deal. If there are any more bowyers and fletchers among us, let ’em speak up and, unless there are far more than I think, I'll gladly give them_a similar “‘ad.”’ If any one else thinks he can get a free ‘“‘ad’’ out of me for some other business, well, let him try it. However, if any of you make chain armor, Damascus blades, Roman triremes or anything like that, let me know and Ill see what I can do. Picturesqueness ought to be rewarded. And, while I’m not much good with any of them—automatics, revolvers, rifles, shot- guns or bows, I think I’d rather be a good archer than equally good with any of the others. I don’t mean popping gentle little arrows at a paper target but using a. seal bow for real purposes. Now, gun-cranks, slay me. But read the letter first: Comicbook 5}