Adventure Magazine Cover, June 20, 1925 — page 111: what you’re looking at

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

Lisbeth 93 question is do we foller him toward Fort Hall or head direct for Dutchy’s hang-out?” “Foot or hoss-back—if we try to foller em?” ‘Horses. Eight horses an’ three men ought to make better time than one man aioot,” replied the dominant man in the party. “Lucky for us we still got them two extra sacks of oats that rolled off that ledge with Cheney’s black mule. They’ll keep our horses alive till we reach Dutchy’s—it can’t be more than twenty-five miles from here—an’ after that we don’t care what be- comes of ’em.”’ Neither of the outlaws noticed Lisbeth’s long ears shoot forward at the mention of oats, but the word carried a distinct mean- ing to the old white mule. ‘‘Come git yer oats,” was a phrase of Alex’s which she had long understood periectly. The men turned back’on the trail which she had wallowed down as if not deigning her worthy of further notice. Presently the cheerful smell of smoke assailed her nostrils. She knew the men were making camp where she had been unsaddled, and something was urging her strongly to follow them back. And yet, when she drew close she sensed something alien. Or perhaps various experiences of hers around camps where Alex was not present to protect her came to her remembrance. For Lisbeth, for all her good qualities, had been so petted and pampered by her master that she had become a veritable camp nuisance. At any rate she hung back in the darkness until the three men around the camp fire had spread out their blankets and rolled in. Some fifty feet back of the camp she could see the huddled horses of the outlaws. They had been given a small feed of oats each, enough to keep them alive, and left tied up because there seemed nothing else for them to eat. Still, she waited until only a few smoldering embers of the fire remained before she actually invaded the camp ground of the outlaws, and then as she glided noiselessly forward her white form against the background of snow was as invisible as a ghost to the casual eye. Two objects lying close to the pack saddles, and at the very foot of the bed where the three outlaws were sleeping to- gether held most, but not quite all-of her attention. As she moved forward the ear next to the sleeping men was cast warily backward, and her right eye, that next to the men, seldom strayed far from the bed. A long upper lip nuzzled tentatively at one of the sacks of oats, but the mouth of it was tied hard and fast. Then her mouth was pressed hard against the burlap until a fold of it was between her teeth. Slowly the sack was swung aloft. Lisbeth turned softly and carried the oat sack some twenty feet away where she de- posited it lightly upon the snow. Placing one small front foot on it firmly she surged back with her teeth. There was a rending, ripping sound and the oat sack gaped open with an eighteen-inch slit in the middle. Lisbeth’s jaws were rammed straight into the sack as far as she could possibly crowd them. When she lifted her head her mouth was so full of oats that it could not possibly contain them and as she swung her head around to regard the bed she sowed oats in a thick half circle. | She stopped crunching abruptly. One of the men in bed had suddenly rolled over and lifted his head. Had the fellow sighted her Lisbeth would have been shot without further ceremony, but it was the horses who, perhaps, saved her. With better eye-sight than the man they had seen what was going on. and the tearing of the sack carried full knowledge to them. Hungry as they were they began to move and stamp impatiently. Apparently satisfied that it was only the uneasiness of the horses that had disturbed him the man resumed his rest. Then, in utter silence save for the steady crunching of her strong but aged jaws, Lis- beth ate as she had not eaten for many. days. Strength came back to her with amazing rapidity. Occasionally the folds of the depleted sack got in her way and she worried it this way and that until she could get at the oats. No thought of the morrow troubled her, for after all Lisbeth was a mule and economic foresight is not a mulish gift. No more did her conscience prick her for robbing the all-but-starving horses. Presently that sack of oats was empty. Most of its contents had been scattered and trampled deep into the snow, and Lisbeth was still unsatisfied. More boldly now than she had approached before, she made her way to the pack saddles, lifted and de- spoiled the remaining sack as she had done the first. But when it was finally empty Lisbeth had eaten all that she cared to. She wondered furtively whether she should not investigate the men’s grub supply where COMIGDIOOKSEEO