Adventure Magazine Cover, March 20, 1925 — page 186: what you’re looking at

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

168 he urged on his dogs. Joe Mcon might even now be at Louis Buckshot’s cabin, might even delay there for fear of the ap- proaching blizzard, thinking that Munroe would be similarly held back at the No- gassaw village. He recognized landmarks along the river banks which told him when he was nearing Louis Buckshot’s place and finally, when the dogs went around a jutting headland, he saw the ungainly cabin, bleak against the hillside snow. Smoke was curling above the roof. A tingling excitement possessed him as he thought that Joe Moon might even then be in the shack and, as his dogs toiled up the hill and halted, panting, before the door, . he resolved that the trader would have no chance to take him by surprize again. The cabin was silent as he strode over to the door, but he pounded for admit- tance. There was no answer. He pounded vigorously again. He could hear the fire crackling within. Some one must be around. He shoved open the door and stepped inside. Two long, sinewy arms twined them- selves suddenly around him as a heavy form leaped at him from beside the door- way, and he was flung violently forward, on the floor of the shack. A knee was dug into the small of his back and, although he strug- gled desperately, he was powerless, for his assailant had grasped both his arms and was twisting them behind his back so that any movement was fraught with exquisite pain. He felt something slip tightly over his wrists, fingers fumbled swiftly and then he felt his wrists bound securely together, whereupon his attacker arose, turned him about like a sack of flour and he found him- self sitting up, his back against the wall, his wrists tied behind him. All this time there had been the one thought in his mind. It was Joe Moon who had waited for him and thus cleverly en- trapped him, and he condemned himself for his lack of caution. But when he looked up he saw, not the ugly, unshaven visage of the trader, but the brown, immobile features of Louis Buckshot. The half-breed was breathing heavily from his exertions—for although Munroe had been taken completely by surprize he had struggled with vigor—sat down upon Adventure the floor and contemplated him morosely. His wife and the children looked on, frightened and silent, from a corner. ‘Well, Louis,”’ observed Munroe, finally, taking in the situation, but bewildered by the unexpected nature of the attack. “This is a fine way to welcome callers. Mistake me for somebody else.”’ Louis Buckshot shook his head and grunted. Munroe caught a whiff of liquor and then, looking over at the crude table, saw a bottle, half full. Joe Moon had come and gone. Buckshot had fallen at last. “Tf wait for you,” said the half-breed, shortly. ‘“‘What’s the big idea?” asked Munroe. “Come on, Louis. Don’t be foolish. Un- tie me or you'll be sorry for it.”’ Louis Buckshot merely shook his head and locked at him, his eyes smoldering, his face stern. He was not drunk, nor yet was he quite sober, and plainly a great change had come over his attitude toward Munroe since the factor’s previous visit. “You try rob me,” he said, at last. “Rob your?” Munroe stared. What notion had the half-breed taken now? Louis Buckshot reached behind into a recess of the logs, and produced a crumpled roll of bills, which he placed on the floor in front of him. “Tt no good,” he said. Munroe did not understand. He Jooked at the money. It was the money he had paid the half-breed for his furs. No good? “Of course it’s good.” “Me know,” grunted Louis Buckshot obstinately, his eyes flashing with anger. “But I know it’s good. Where do you get that idea?”’ “Tt bad,” replied the half-breed, decided- ly. “Joe Moon say.” A great light dawned on Munroe. Joe Moon had been here. He had told Louis Buckshot that the money the factor had given him for his furs was worthless. Al- ways distrustful of the white man’s money, Louis Buckshot had proven only too re- ceptive to the suggestion. Munroe realized then that he was facing a serious situation, for Louis Buckshot was plainly very angry and, fortified by a few drinks, there was no telling what he might do. He wished his hands were free, for Louis Buckshot might be minded to seek Louis MICLOOO (C©