Adventure Magazine Cover — page 129: what you’re looking at

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

‘sacred or medicine ponies is all smoothed dace of The prisoners stared at him blankly. He tersely explained: “Goss and this other feller are facing death for riding the medicine-ponies. Early in the summer Red Crow was cornered by some Kiowas at the edge of the plains. He said he’d give two ponies to the bad god if his hide was saved. Mighty big thunder storm and cloudburst nearly drowned him and the Kiowas, but he got clear. He kept his word and gave the ponies. Qf course no one must ever strike or ride them. Goss and this other feller rode them and kicked them. That’s enough to settle their hash in any Ute camp. Now the bad god will raise —— with Red Crow.” “But they are such poor ponies!” pro- tested Ellis. “That don’t make any difference,” angrily retorted Lomsom. “Mebbe the bad god is rather foolish and accepts crow-bait for real hossflesh. But that don’t change the fact you two have done a very bad thing in riding and striking them.” “That can be fixed,” said Goss. “You give Red Crow two of the American horses you brought in. He can give two more ponies to the bad god. That ought to square the deal.” “Vah-h! Id look fine giving away hoss- flesh that I traveled way down to Beaver Creek to lift,’ snarled Lomsom. Speaking for the first tume the Rabbit curtly advised— “Give the horses to save these two men.’ Lomsom stared at him wrathiuly aa warned: “You're red and may have a pull with the Utes. But I’m the White Chief. They might take a notion to tie you to a pony’s heels.” The Rabbit smiled slightly and replied: “T know the Utes better than you do. I’ve met and talked with many of them while out hunting. They call me the Walk- ing Dead Man; for they know I have only until June first to live. No Ute will place a hand on me, no matter what Ido. They would as quick think of striking a ghost.” “Chief, give the horses,” urged Euclid. “Tf you don’t, I won’t use my calculations on your secret diggings.” “Vou round-faced fool!” gritted Lomsom. “Even now they want to skin you alive for killing Little Tree, father of Red Crow. They diese a white stranger always rene a bad spirit to a camp or village. Tree dies while you’re here. He was. ae before these other two men came in. You’ve no time to think about saving any one but — yorself.”” The Rabbit said: “Tt is true they believe a white man » tenes a bad spirit to a village. But what if some one should tell them that Lomsom, a man, driven out of a Mormon city because he had a bad spirit always at his side, brought death to Little Tree? What if the Walking Dead Man, whose voice is that of a ghost, should ask them to look back over - the time you've lived with them? might find several deaths to be bie to you.” Lomsom’s lips twitched and ke hence exclaimed: “Ymred. Lain’t white.” “They will listen very hard to what the Walking Dead Man says. Call your own men and tell them te kill me. No one will lift a hand.” “What’s to stop me lifting a hand agaimst your” cried Lomsom. “Fear of death. You love life, or you wouldn’t live with the Utes. Red Crow would be the first to try for your life.” Lomsom drew a deep breath and sullenly surrendered, “I ain’t narrer. I ain’t got. anything agaimst Goss or the young pup with him. I'll give the two hosses to Red Crow. I can steak some more. But if £ do that you must talk strong to save this other feller whose blamed for Little Tree’s death. I’m banking on him to clean up enough gold to take me far from here.” “Tf I had a dredge I could take millions out of the Twin Lakes’ sands!” mused Euclid. “Tl be glad te help the young mam,” readily agreed the Rabbit. “We'll go and have a talk now before Red Crow stits up more trouble.” _ “All right for the Pilgrim to sing?” asked Goss. “TI feel like some music.” “Bleat his head off if he wants to,” growled Lomsom. Ellis was in no mood for singing, but Goss insisted, and as Lomsom and the Rabbit made for the southern side of the camp they were followed by the pathos and melody of “My Old Kentucky Home.” Lomsom — halted and looked back for a few moments. The effect on Euchd was most promounced. eomicbooks.com