Adventure Magazine Cover — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

I2 and had seen him tied to a trunk-handle in the express car. It suddenly occurred to Jim Legg that he had made no provisions for feed and water for the dog. It did not occur to him that the messenger might be human enough to do this for the dog. The engine was whistling a station call, and Jim Legg resolved to in- vestigate for himself. The train clanked to a stop at the little station, and Jim Legg dropped off the steps, making his way up to the baggage car, where the messenger and a brakeman were unloading several packages. Jim noticed that the weather-beaten sign on the front of the depot showed it to be Encinas, the town where the deputy sheriff’s sweet- heart lived. The brakeman went on toward the engine and Jim Legg got into the express car. Geronimo’s tie-rope had been shifted to a trunk farther up the aisle, and the messen- ger stood just beyond him, looking over a sheaf of way-bills by the dim light of a lantern. The train jerked ahead, but Jim Legg did not notice that they were traveling again, until the train had gained considerable speed. The messenger turned and came back toward the door, not noticing in the dim light that he had a new passenger. The dog reared up and put his paws on the messenger’s overall-clad leg. But only for a moment. The messenger whirled around and kicked the dog back against the trunk. “Keep off me, —— yuh!” he rasped. The dog rolled over, but came to his feet, fangs bared. : “Try to bite me, will yuh?” snarled the messenger. He glanced around for some sort of a weapon, evidently not caring to get within kicking distance of the dog again, when Jim Legg spoke mildly— “You really shouldn’t do that.” The messenger whirled around and stared at Jim Legg. He did not recognize him as the man who had put the dog in the car at the main line. “What in —— are you doin’ in my car?” he demanded. Jim Legg shifted uneasily. “Well, I—I’m watching you mistreat a dumb brute, it seems. That’s my dog, and I didn’t put him on here to be kicked.” “Your dog, eh?” W. C. TUTTLE The messenger came closer. He recog- nized Jim now. “Got on at Encinas, eh?” “T think that was the name. The train started, and I had no chance to get back to the coach, you see.”’ “Yeah, I see. But that don’t make any difference to me. Nobody is allowed to ride in here. You'll have to get off at Blue Wells.” “Ts that the next station?” “Yeah. We'll be there in a few minutes.” He looked back at the dog. ‘You hadn’t ought to ship a dog like that. He’s no —— earthly good, and he tried to bite me just now.” “Youre a liar!” It was the first time Jim Legg had ever said that to any one, and this time he had said it without a thought of the conse- quences. It seemed the natural thing to say. “T’m a liar, eh?” The messenger would weigh close to two hundred pounds and was as hard as nails. “Yes, sir,” declared Jim Legg. “If you say that Geronimo tried to bite you just now, you're a liar. I could report you for kicking that dog.” “Oh, you could, could yuh? Like ! The company ain’t responsible for dogs. You never checked him. He’s just ridin’ here, because I was good enough to take him in; just a dead-head.”’ ‘““Good enough, eh?” Jim Legg took off his glasses, put them in a case and tucked them in his pocket. The messenger came closer. The train was whistling, and they felt the slight jerk as the brakes were applied. “IT saw you kick that dog,” said Jim calmly, although his heart was hammering against his ribs. “No man would do a thing like that. It was a dirty trick—and then you try to lie out of it.” “Why, you little four-eyed pup!’ snorted the messenger. ‘“T’ll make you take that back. Anyway, you’ve got no right in this car, and I’m justified in throwin’ yuh off.”’ Jim Legg threw out his hands in protest to any such an action. He had never fought anybody, knew nothing of self-de- fense. But the messenger evidently mis- took Jim’s attitude, and swung a right-hand smash at his head. And Jim’s clumsy at- tempt to duck the blow caused the messen- ger to crash his knuckles against the top of COmiclh@oo SS (©