Adventure Magazine Cover — page 116: what you’re looking at

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

114 creaked and began to open. The gambler’s eyes were apparently closed in slumber. The right hand hung limply over the side of the bunk, the fingers touching the butt of a forty-four handgun. He saw the aperture ‘widen. He recognized the dark face and drew his hand from the gun and called out— “Come in!” The Rabbit entered and softly closed the door behind him. Goss coldly advised— “My friend, you should learn the white man’s way of knocking.” Rabbit leaned his rifle against the logs and seated himself on the floor and lighted his “Tf the white man slept I did not. wish to disturb him,” he finally said. “I am awake. My ears are open,” re- plied Goss. | After a few puffs the hunter announced— “T bring a talk from the Singer.” Goss’ dark features remained immobile. He quietly repeated, “My ears are open. The man who will go back to be hung by his own people will not bring me a lie.” “Shot,” tersely corrected the hunter. “It was agreed [ should die as a hunter kills. I was drunk, and [ killed a drunken man who was trying to kill me.” “And there’s nothing to make you go back to the Indian nation to be shot.” “T said I would be there on June first next year, if alive,” was the stolid reply. “IT have learned to read and write like a white man, but I am still Indian enough to keep my word. If I did not go back my father, brothers, even my old mother, would offer themselves in my place.” “Few white men care to keep promises made to Death,” mused Goss. “My ears are open.” Lowering his voice almost to a whisper the red hunter informed— “The Singer is hiding at Twin Lakes.” Goss opened his eyes slowly and came toa sitting posture on the edge of the couch. “After killing Skillings he should have re- mained here.”’ Rabbit shook his head and replied— “He did not kill Skillings.” “Then why did he run away?” harshly demanded Goss. For once he was unable to conceal his surprize. “Many white men heard him say he would kill Skillings if the white man tried to hurt him. White men will not take a white LR De oe Fe Sg, Og ee pret on I PE x . 5 ia tang I sSe Sg ee et an Peete tn She ~~ — it - ay en « P - Adventure man’s word as my people will take my word. He knew they would say he killed.” “How did he know Skillings had been killed?” demanded Goss. “T came here and told him. I was among the first to reach the wagons. I knew he would be blamed before the white men read all the signs. Your people hang first, then ask questions. After you came along and they began to say he did it I came here and woke him up and led him to the lakes. We finished the fifteen miles by sunrise. I started back here at once. He is sick in the heart. He felt better when I said I would take a talk to you today. He has blankets and meat. I shall take him a gun.” “Rabbit, you’ve tipped the kettle over,” groaned Goss. The hunter made no defense except to remind him— “They were crying, ‘Hang him! Hang him!’ when I led him away from this place.” Goss said no more. What was done had been done through friendship. But had Ellis been found, soundly sleepmg in the hut, with no signs of the homicide upon him, his innocence would practically have been established. Goss quietly asked— “What is the talk?” “He says for you to look for letters at the express office and send them back to him by me.” “I will do that, and write something to him. But where will he go? What will he do?” “He has two legs and is young. He can go where he chooses, He can work for white men.” “And be found and hung! He ran away. No miners’ court would believe you or him. Now they’re even saying he and Skillings passed worthless money in the gulch.” ‘That is bad,” gravely agreed the Indian. “A court of my people would believe me. But he will not be found if he is wise. The season will soon close. The miners will have eyes only for the wagons taking them East, or for the bars and dancehalls of the valley towns. He is called the Singing Pilgrim. Hecan take any name he will, and if he does not sing no one will be looking for him after another moon. Before it is time for me to go back and be killed he can come back to his camp and no one will bother him. White ears in Colorado hear nothing but the voice of gold.” | “You talk —— smooth, Rabbit.” Gcomicbooks.com