Adventure Magazine Cover — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

THE BUCKAROO make ’em. By , (’m all through lettin’ folks make remarks to me. From now on I’m goin’ to make these smart pelicans set up and salute when the law shows up.” CHAPTER VI THE MAKING OF A COWBOY meee) MO LEGG awoke to a different WES) iA) world from what he had ever seen. Blue Wells was so_ typically |} southwestern, being one long street of one and two story adobe houses, some of them half-adobe, half-frame. There were no sidewalks, no lawns, no shrub- bery. The fronts of the buildings were unpainted, and the signs were so scoured from wind and sand that the letters were barely legible. No one seemed to pay any attention to Jim Legg. The town was full of cattlemen, and the topic of conversation was the train robbery. Jim Legg listened to the different ideas on the subject, no two of which were alike. He realized that if he and the ex- press messenger had not fought and fell out of the car, they would have been in the center of things. And Jim Legg was glad the messenger had hed about the physical proportions of the man who had attacked him. Jim wondered what had become of Geronimo, but did not ask any one. And then Jim Legg ran into the three men from the AK outfit. Their pockets were lined with a month’s pay, and they were happily inclined toward all humanity. Oyster Shell, backed against the Oasis bar, was the first to see Jim Legg. His eyes opened wide and he spurred Johnny Grant on the calf of his left leg. poe 8, , Johnny,” he said softly. “Do m’ eyes deceive me?” Johnny looked upon Jim Legg with much the same expression that a scientist might exhibit upon finding the fossil egg of a dinosaur. “Welcome,” said Johnny. you to Blue Wells.” “How do you do?” smiled Jim. day, isn’t it?” “Yeah,” said Johnny, “We have one like this every thirty days. What grade of poison does yore stummick stand?” Jim Legg had never drank anything more potent than a small glass of beer, but he ‘“‘T welcome ‘Nice OF BLUE WELLS 21 knew that he was now in Rome, so he said: “Oh, anything you gentlemen are drink- ing.” “Hooch!” exclaimed Eskimo, and the busy bartender sent the bottle spinning down the bar, followed by four glasses. “You want a wash?” asked Johnny, meaning a glass of water or soda. Jim Legg glanced at his hands and looked at himself in the back-bar. “No,” he said finally. “I don’t think so.” The three cowpunchers exchanged quick glances. Fate had sent them something to play with. Eskimo poured out a full glass for their new playmate, who almost strangled over it. But he got it down. “‘That’s liquor,” declared Johnny, smack- ing his lips. “Tt’s gug-good,” whispered Jim Legg. He cleared his throat and wondered at the warm glow within him. “T’m buyin’,” declared Oyster, spinning a dollar on the bar, which got them four clean glasses. Again Jim Legg managed to swallow the liquor, but this time it did not strangle him. He laughed gleefully at nothing in particu- lar and rested a hand on Johnny Grant’s shoulder. ““My name’s Legg,” he told them. “Jim Legg.” “That’s quite a name,” agreed Johnny. ““My name’s Grant, this one’s name is Shell, and that Jewish friend of ours there is named Swensen. We’re Johnny, Oyster and Eskimo, respectably.” They all shook hands gravely. “Tf the clerk will furnish us ‘with clean glasses, I'll make a purchase,” said Jim Legg solemnly. “My -——!” exclaimed Eskimo explo- sively. “Just why?” queried Jim Legg. “T thought my belt was comin’ off.” They filled their glasses and drank heart- ily. By this time Jim Legg seemed to be getting numb, but happily so. The world was bathed in a rosy glow, and he wanted to sing and dance. ‘“Jist what is yore business, Misser Legg?” asked Oyster. “T came here,” said Jim, ‘to be a cow- puncher.”’ Johnny Grant’s foot slipped and he sat down heavily on the bar-rail. “That,” said Eskimo owlishly-wise, “is a COMICOOokKS Cc (©