Adventure Magazine Cover — page 47: what you’re looking at

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

THE BUCKAROO OF BLUE WELLS Tex nodded slowly, thoughtfully. Sud- denly he jerked ahead, his eyes boring into Barnhardt. “Why should I worry about ’em? They can’t hang anythin’ on to me, by ——!” “Oh, all right,” sighed Lee. “I know I’d like to have that eight thousand dollars back from you. You better give it to me pretty quick, because I can’t cover it up very long.” | “Why can’t yuh? The round-up count can be long. You handle all the business for the X Bar 6, and you can add those cat- tle to your report. They don’t know the sale was made.” “Compound a felony, eh? Turn crook for you, Tex?” “Turn ——! Listen, Lee.’”’ Tex leaned across the desk and poked a finger at Lee’s nose. “Yo’re as crooked as a snake in a cactus patch. You’d double-cross yore best friend for a dollar. Don’t swaller so hard! I mean what I’m tellin’ yuh. You told me about that Santa Rita pay-roll, because you wanted yore cut out of it, and yo’re sore be- cause yuh didn’t get it. “T haven’t any eight thousand dollars. —— yuh; I ain’t got no way to get eight thousand dollars. And what’s more, I don’t think I’d give it to yuh if I had it. Now, roll that up in some tar-paper and smoke it. Any old time you start playin’ saint to my sins, yo’re goin’ to get in wrong. Now, think it over.” Tex surged away from the desk, and went out, scraping his spurs angrily, while Lee Barnhardt looked after him, gloomy-eyed, his lips compressed tightly. Finally he sighed and shook his head. ‘‘Lee, your sins are finding you out,” he said softly. “That poor fool is trying to bluff you—and he almost did.” CHAPTER X HASHKNIFE AND SLEEPY, PHILANTHROPISTS mee\TTIS old place is sure pleasin’ to yaa, the naked eye,” said Hashknife the following morning, while es} Sleepy washed his face noisily at the old wash-bench near the kitchen door. “T like this old patio, Sleepy. Them walls were sure built to ward off bullets.” “Yeah, and we’re in a peaceable neigh- borhood,” grunted Sleepy, his eyes shut against the sting of soap-suds, while he 45 pawed awkwardly along the wall, trying to locate the towel, which Hashknife had deftly removed. ‘‘Where’s that —— towel!” he roared. “Gimme that, before I scalp yuh. Dang yuh, Hashknife, you’ve got a —— of an idea of humor. Ow-w-w-w! Please! My ——, if I ever git m’ eyes open ag’in, I’ll scalp yuh.” Sleepy danced violently, his dripping hands held at right angles to his body. “Whatsa idea of the ghost-dance?”’ queried Hashknife soberly. ‘The towel is there on the wash-bench, where yuh left it.”’ This was palpably a falsehood, but Sleepy pawed his way to the bench, found the towel, and wiped his burning eyes. “You hadn’t ought to use laundry soap in yore eyes,” said Hashknife reprovingly. ‘Whatcha cryin’ about?” “You stole that towel! Yeah, yuh did! Oh, well!’ Sleepy shrugged his shoulders. “A feller that ain’t got no more sense than to throw in with a danged—’” 4 “Halt!” snorted Hashknife. “Say it, and I’ll wash out yore mouth, Sleepy.” “Oh, yuh will!” Sleepy glared at Hash- knife, who was in line with the kitchen door, where Marion stood, laughing. “Ex-cuse me, Miss Taylor,” said Sleepy. “Tf you'd lived with Hashknife—uh—I mean, if you—’”’ Sleepy floundered and wiped his eyes. “You'll excuse him, Miss Taylor,” said Hashknife seriously. ‘He ain’t very bright. Ever once in a while he gets a dirty look in his eyes, and has to wash ’em out, yuh see. As a friend he’s all right, but when yuh want mental companionship, I’d as soon have that burro yuh call Apollo.” Marion laughed, and invited them in ta breakfast. She introduced them to Nanah, a portly Indian woman, whom Sleepy dubbed “Carrie Nation,” because she held a hatchet in her left hand, while she shook hands with the other. “She’s related to Peeler,’ explained Marion. “Relate by marriage,” said Nanah sol- emnly, as if to amend Marion’s statement. “Nephew?” asked Hashknife, helping himself to a stack of hot-cakes. “Son,’”’ said Nanah seriously. “Relate by marriage!’’ exploded Sleepy. Nanah did not smile. She spilled more batter on the griddle, examined the pitcher closely, as she glanced at Hashknife’s plate, GCOMIIGIOO S (©