Adventure Magazine Cover — page 60: what you’re looking at

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

58 his heel, he ran to the hitch-rack, mounted his horse and went flailing off down the street, followed by Geronimo, _ barking wildly. Porter got slowly to his feet, holding one hand against his head, his face a mixture of anger and wonderment. ‘‘Where’d he hit yuh?” ‘‘What was the matter?” “Who shot yuh?” Questions were fired at Porter, who groaned dismally and shoved the anxious sheriff away. “That -—— fool!’ quavered Porter. ‘Who'd ever think he’d shoot? I was plumb off balance—kinda on one heel—and his bullet—take a look at it.” Porter held up his foot and they beheld the reason for the deputy’s sudden drop. The heavy bullet had smashed into the high heel, almost into the counter, and the impact had knocked Porter’s sole prop from under him. And Porter had hit his head a resounding whack against the ground, which accounted for the fact that Porter stayed down a while. “And he stole the dog!” exclaimed the sheriff. “The dog stole him,’”’ amended Johnny Grant. “IT hope t? —— he keeps him!”’ groaned Porter. ‘I’m all through with that dog, evidence or no evidence.” “But we’ve got to have that dog, Al,” insisted the sheriff. ‘That’s our main evi- dence.” ‘Then you get him and do the feedin’. I never hired out as a —— menagerie keeper. He bit me on the wrist, and when I kicked at him, he bit me on the ankle and got loose.” Tex Alden was one of those who had come from Moon’s store, and now he spoke to the sheriff: ‘Just why did that dog pull out with Legg?” “Why, I dunno, Tex,” admitted the sheriff. ‘“‘Why did Legg defend the dog?” The sheriff looked blankly around. ‘‘T dunno that either, Tex.” “All right,” Tex smiled crookedly and shrugged his shoulders. He looked at Marion, but did not speak, and turned away. “What’ll yuh do to that kid, Al?” asked one of the men. W. C. TUTTLE “Do to him?” Porter took it under ad- visement. “I dunno. He might ’a’ been right. I was so—— mad that I dunno just how things was.” “You reached back for a gun,” reminded Eskimo, and the other three AK cowboys nodded in confirmation. “Yuh did, Al,” said Johnny. “All right,” nodded Porter. did.”’ “And the kid thought yuh was goin’ to draw on him,” offered Oyster Shell. “Well, what the is all the argument ‘““Mebbe I about?” snarled the deputy. ‘“T’ll admit he was right. But,” Porter mustered a smile, “I hope that —— dog bites him when he gits off that horse.” All of which ended all arguments as far as the guilt or innocence of Jimmy Legg was concerned—although Jimmy Legg, run- ning his horse back toward the Double Bar 8, considered himself a deep-dyed killer. He imagined that a posse was already on his trail, and once he saw Geronimo far back in the road, just topping a rise, and his imagination conjured up a dozen armed men, hot on his trail. The shooting had made him cold sober, but the taste of liquor was still on his palate. His future was indefinite, because his thoughts ran in circles. He could see the big deputy, lying flat in the street, his knees jerking. Everything else was blotted out by that picture. He tried to remember just why he had fired the shot, but it was like a half-forgotten dream—something that had happened long ago. His horse was plastered with lather, when he rode in at the patio gate and dismounted near the well. Hashknife and Sleepy were just coming from the ranch-house door, realizing from the condition of the horse that something was wrong. ‘“‘What’s wrong, Jimmy?” asked Hash- knife. Jimmy flapped his arms weakly, and there was a decided catch in his throat. “T just killed the deputy sheriff,” he said. Hashknife stepped closer and grasped Jimmy by a shoulder. “You done what?” Jimmy gulped and nodded. ““Ve-yes, I did. I—I—” “Take it easy, kid,’ said Hashknife. “Set down here on the curb and tell us about it.” DOOK C@