Adventure Magazine Cover, June 20, 1925 — page 105: what you’re looking at

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

Lisbeth and then the rattle of camp utensils as Bec’ shot wildly ahead. Alex saw the man on guard below spring to his feet and look around wildly. Once more the pack. rasped against the rock and the fellow called to his companion, who leaped from his blankets fully dressed. Alex was now approaching the point di- rectly above the flaming fir tree. He dared not hesitate now, for once the men’s eyes became accustomed to the shadows they would almost surely be able to make out the figures of the mules above their heads. With a light pressure of his heels against Lisbeth’s ribs he urged her forward, and the same moment, almost, a tongue of flame on the dead fir leaped high, making the ledge for a distance of twenty feet as plain as day. It died down again instantly, but not be- fore Alex heard the men’s yell of discovery. Immediately there came the crack of a rifle and a bullet spatted against the rock directly over Cheney’s head. The other man began firing with his revolver, and it seemed to Alex that bullets were fairly rain- ing around him. The least misstep on Lisbeth’s part, he knew, would send them hurtling to their death. She had quickened her pace of her own accord to her fastest running walk, but he could also sense the sureness of every step. Then he heard the Bec’ mule give a fright- ened snort. There was a sound of feet sliding over rock and the rope was jerked from his hand. Glancing back over his shoulder he barely glimpsed the black mule disappearing over the rim. A moment later a hollow sound coming from near the base of the burning fir floated up to him, ac- companied by triumphant yells from the bandits. “Git above ’im!” Alex heard one of the outlaws yell. One chance alone remained to him—to get off the ledge and into the road before they could intercept him. ‘Come on, ole girl,’ he implored, and pressed Lisbeth’s white sides harder with his heels. She broke into her slow lope. It would have been dangerous enough in daylight to turn a man’s hair white, and the shift of snow on the rock made it yet more dangerous; Cheney’s hair stood on end. Occasionally a foot slipped, and once Lis- beth went down on her knees, but with the quickness of a cat she recovered and scram- bled on. And then, almost before he knew 87 it, they were in the steep draw at the end of the ledge. Alex became aware that he had been holding his breath for a length of time that seemed ages. They were quickly in the road again and ahead of their pursuers, but Alex knew the outlaws would quickly be saddled and on his trail. He was almost ready to pull up and accept whatever fate the outlaws had in store for him. Even if Lisbeth had stamina enough to keep ahead of the horses—and it seemed an impossible thing to expect—they were doomed anyway on account of the loss of the pack mule with their supplies. To think of making a trip of hundreds of miles with neither food nor weapons was like the impossible optimism of a lunatic, but behind them were the outlaws and sure ‘death. “Tt’s up to you, ole girl,” he whispered in Lisbeth’s big ear. “I ain’t a goin’ to urge ye. If ye feel like stoppin’ we will.” But apparently Lisbeth sensed the men- ace behind for she showed no disposition to slacken her pace. Wherever it was possible: to do so she maintained her jackrabbit lope, and where it was too steep for that her fast walking gait carried her swiftly to the top. | DAYLIGHT found them well into the highest range of moun- = tains they would have to encoun- = ter. The snow on the level was six or eight inches deep and near the tops of’ the ridges there were drifts that frequently were belly deep. And in that high altitude Alex knew the weather could change sud- denly. It was cold now, but it might be snowing before noon. He stopped Lisbeth and dismounted while she rested. The out- laws were not in sight, but he knew the re- spite would be brief. Clouds of steam were arising from the old white mule’s hide, her shoulder muscles were quivering and she was breathing hard. | Alex tentatively hefted the saddle bags, and a wry, bitter grin came on his face. ‘“‘Mebbe it’s a funny thing to say but I wish t’ I could trade this. gold dust fer the same weight in oats,” he murmured. Suddenly he caught sight of his pur- suers little more than a mile behind him. The discovery was mutual for he saw the leading outlaw wave jubilantly. Alex looked at his old pet doubtfully. In years gone she would have had her wind back after COMIGDIOOKSEEO