Adventure Magazine Cover — page 126: what you’re looking at

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

124 stared ruefully at the stem still held in his fingers, then picked up the bowl only to drop it on satisfying himself it was hope- lessly broken. A Ute unfastened the prisoners’ hands and in pantomime promised to cut their throats if they wandered near the outlet. Finding themselves free they advanced to the white man, and Goss announced: “We're prisoners. Are you?” “For two weeks. If this isn’t a pretty mess!” He looked to be scarcely past his majority. He was slim of build and had tousled light hair. His blue eyes were round and staring. Both Goss and Ellis appraised him as being a bit simple-minded. His facial expression suggested perpetual surprise. The gambler gave his name and intro- duced Ellis as the Singing Pilgrim. “Ym called Euclid because of my abstruse calculations. If these Indians hadn’t picked me up I’d have revolutionized the process of quartz mining before now.” Lowering his voice as if fearing their Savage captors would understand he con- fided: “By higher mathematics I’ve discovered how to conquer sulfurets. Best stampers now are saving only a fourth of the gold. The silver and copper are wasted. Our miners can’t seem to understand they must do different’n than they do in California where there is no refractory ore. We lose surface profits by trying to get rid of sul- phurets by wrong methods. We exhaust the decomposed surface quartz in the first year and then find ourselves in caps and pinches and those abominable sulfurets. But with one sheet of paper and a lead pencil I’ve discovere “We remarked we’re prisoners. If you’re called Euclid you must be the man Whip King was asking for in California Gulch. Said the last time he saw you you were being mobbed in Central City,” harshly broke in Goss. “They didn’t understand at Central City. Where’s Whip King now?”’ An Indian darted forward and struck at Euclid viciously with a piece of firewood. The blow was dodged neatly, but Euclid became silent and walked farther from the lodges, followed by Goss and Ellis. None of the Indians followed them. The wailing from the camp grew more piercing. Euclid whispered: Adventure “Little Tree, father of Red Crow, chief of this band, accidentally shot himself through the breast with a revolver. Medi- cine man is trying to cure him. Old fool was pounding the butt against a rock. Wish the whole tribe had caught the same bullet!” “Tf they’ve kept you alive two weeks there’s a chance for us,” hopefully said Ellis. “Oh, I’m sure of it. But I’m losing too much time. Time’s money. If they had to catch a white man why did they have to bag the best assayer in the mountains? In any mountains?” sighed Euclid. “T’d hate to have such a poor opinion of myself,”’ grunted Goss. Euclid did not appear to sense any irony. He started to explain in detail the im- portance of his work when the voice of the medicine man abruptly ceased. “The old buck’s dead!’”’ whispered Euclid, staring at the lodges. The silence continued for a minute, then commenced much shouting and men began running about. One warrior ran to the pony herd and called loudly to the guards. Immediately three ponies were driven one side and shot with arrows. A fourth pony was hurried to the camp. Men brought out a blanket-wrapped form and placed it on the pony. A tall Ute with many silver ornaments decorating his two long braids of hair walked toward the west side of the park. Several men with the pony, followed. “Man going ahead is Red Crow, son of Little Tree, the dead man,” muttered Euclid. The lodge in which Little Tree died col- lapsed and coals from a fire were thrown on it until it began burning; for the Utes de- stroy all property left by the dead. When the lodge poles and skin covering and few furnishings had been reduced to ashes sey- eral small trees were felled and dragged in and dumped on the spot; this, so that no man would erect his lodge there. Euclid fingered the stem of his pipe and complained: “Big fool busted my pipe. Now I can’t smoke.” “Queer that Whip King should have asked about you and that now I should meet you,’ mused the gambler. “Whip King means well, but he’s narrow- minded. He doesn’t comprehend that the universe is simply a problem in celestial mathematics and that if the great truth is ever discovered it will be by my pencil and Gomichbooks.com