Adventure Magazine, December 10, 1924 — page 86: what you’re looking at

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

64 our rifles, the major and I went outside. A minute later Mr. John rode in ‘alone. VI hadn’t time, and I think we was all glad of it. “Still got him?” asked Mr. John. “In the office,” answers the major. the best place in case of trouble.” “There'll be trouble, all right,” says Mr. John. ‘They got word and started before I did. They’d have beaten me if I hadn’t taken the back way.” “How about June Frére?”’ I puts in. “That’s the tough part,” goes on Mr. John. ‘“He’s only got a crease along the top of his skull that’s knocked him out for a while. Of course he was all over blood, and the first cajun who got to him said, ‘foutou,’ and went off to spread the news, I’ve been trying to get this to them all morning, but it isn’t any use. They’re too drunk and excited to listen to any one but Lazie.” “Got any deputies?” asks the major. “No, sir,” says Mr. John. ‘‘As fast as P swore them in they quit. I’m going this alone.” “Not exactly; not exactly,” major. And he adds, Stark-like, a second later— “That boy’s looking to me to save him, and I will.”’ It was just about then that we heard a noise way out in front. The plantation road cut through the fields as straight as a string and, when we looked out along it, we saw the first riders turnin’ in at the big -gate- We stood for a little and looked at ’em. There was somethin’ kind of creepy in watchin’ that mob ride in. They come some thirty strong with everything from a .22 to a duck gun and enough ropes to hang half the parish. Of course it wasn’t much of a mob as mobs go. But they was drunk and mean, and they had us clean out- numbered. It looked like trouble to me. The major snorted and begun to fiddle with his Winchester. He was always mighty particular about who come on his place. “John,” he growls, “this thing has gone farenough. I’m going out and order those people off. You let me settle this business.’’ THERE wasn’t any greetin’s. We Tt’s growls the Adventure “I’m sorry, sir,’’ says Mr. John, “‘but it won’t do. I’ve seen them from the start and I know. This is my job and there’s only one way to handle it. Will you do what I say?” He spoke mighty quiet, but there was somethin’ about his words that bit in. The major didn’t wait a second. . “Go ahead,” says he, “I’m your man.” Mr. John went over to the office and stuck in his head. , “Bad-Eye,” he calls, ‘‘they’re coming. Lie low, no matter what they tell you. It’s your only chance.” “Now, father,” he goes on, ‘‘you and Nick go inside. Lock the door and back me up through the window. Don’t shoot unless I shoot first. And, whatever happens, don’t let them get Bad-Eye.” I could see that the major didn’t like it. But he hadn’t had his military trainin’ for nothin! He snorted again and went in without a word. The office was a solid little buildin’ with a good heavy door. After we’d locked it and dragged up a ae chest, we was pretty snug. There was only. one window in front, and the major took the right-hand side. He was all hornet now, if you get what I mean. Even with their outnumberin’ us, I don’t know that I’d swapped places with that says he. “Don’t lose your head!” showed up on the big house drive. when he saw Mr. John he let out a had turned off toward the quarters. I cajun bullies that they call a ‘““Papa Man.” Mr. John stepped forward to meet him. leave.” mob. “Remember your orders, Mr. Wilson,” We waited a while with our rifles out and ready for use. Then the first of the mob Vil LAZIE, the leader, was in front and yell. It passed down the line and was answered by a part of the bunch that could hear ’em lopin’ back as Lazie trotted out on the lawn. He was one of these big, Bein’ a pot hunter, when he wasn’t too busy loafin’, he was carryin’ his ten gage gun. “Lazie,” says he, “you’re trespassing on private property. Take my advice and Lazie grinned in the slow, insultin’ kind of way some big men have. CoOMmichook A) CO =