Adventure Magazine Cover — page 63: what you’re looking at

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

THE BUCKAROO OF BLUE WELLS sat down im the shade with Jimmy, leaving Hashknife with the lawyer. “Naturally, we are both working in the interests of the Taylor family,’ said the lawyer confidentially. ‘‘Now, I’d like to know what progress you have made in your observations.” Hashknife looked at him keenly. “I don’t reckon I understand yuh, Barn- hardt.” “No?” Barnhardt smiled knowingly. “For your own information I will say that Chet Le Moyne admitted your connections with the Santa Rita mining company.” “He did, eh?” Hashknife was wearing his poker face now. “Yes. It is rather difficult to keep a thing like that from becoming common knowledge. Folks naturally wondered what your busi- ness might be.”’ “I suppose,” seriously. ‘‘But I don’t reckon it makes much difference, does it?”’ “Oh, no. I have not mentioned it to any one; but I was curious to know what you had found out, because I am anxious for any new development which will serve my clients.”’ “Well, I can’t tell yuh much. In fact, I can’t tell yuh anythin’.”’ “Anything you told me would be in strictest confidence.” “Yeah, I realize that.” But although the Blue Wells lawyer waited patiently, the tall cowboy remained silent. Then— “Just an inkling of what you are doing would serve to cheer up my clients.” Hashknife shifted his position and looked Barnhardt squarely in the eye. The level stare of the cold-eyed cowboy caused Barn- hardt’s gaze to shift. He had the uncom- fortable feeling that Hashknife could read his mind. ‘‘Barnhardt,” said Hashknife earnestly, “do you think ’m a fool?” “Oh, no; not at all. Well,” Barnhardt turned away, ‘‘I suppose I may as well go back. No hard feelings, I hope. Being in charge of the Taylor defense, I would natur- ally be interested in any new developmenst in the case.” Barnhardt mounted his sway-backed horse and rode away, his elbows flapping, his trouser-legs crawling up. About a mile from the Double Bar 8 he drew rein and let his horse walk slowly along the dusty road, while he took an envelope from his pocket. 61 The flap had already been torn loose. He drew out the letter and perused it closely. The envelope, postmarked Chicago, was addressed to H. Hartley, Blue Wells, Ari- zona, and the letter read: Dear Sir: A wire from us to James Eaton Legg, San Francisco, California, brought a re- ply from his former place of residence to the effect that Mr. Legg had left there and had left his forwarding address as Blue Wells, Arizona. This may be a coincidence, or it may be be- cause of some former information. Trusting that you will be able to furnish us with valuable information soon, we beg to remain, Sincerely yours, LEEsoM & BRAND. Barnhardt’s lips were shut tightly and the muscles of his jaw bulged as he tore the let- ter into tiny fragments, swung his horse off the road and scattered the bits of paper into a mesquite tangle. He turned in his saddle and looked back toward the Double Bar 8, as he reined his horse back to the road. ‘“‘Hashknife Hartley,’ he said earnestly, “do you think ’ma fool?” But whether Hashknife did, or didn’t— Barnhardt had no way of knowing. He could only guess, and possibly he guessed wrong. At any rate he rode back to Blue Wells in a black frame of mind, and the first man he met was Chet Le Moyne. “T’ve just been out to the Double Bar 8,” he told Le Moyne. “And I had a talk with your detectives.” “You did, eh. What did they tell you?” “That would be telling, Chet. I told them I knew they were working for the Santa Rita.” ““Yeahr” coldly. ‘And then?” “Oh, they didn’t deny it. But I don’t think they’ve found out very much.” “Possibly not.”’ Le Moyne watched Barnhardt ride down to his office, tie his horse, and go inside. The face of the handsome paymaster twisted angrily, as his gloomy eyes squinted against the sun. “YT wonder if Barnhardt is just a plain —— fool, or—” Le Moyne shook his head and went on his way. AT evening Hashknife, Sleepy and Jimmy rode to Blue Wells. There were few people in town, and while Jimmy and Sleepy played pool at the Oasis saloon, Hashknife found the sheriff at his office. The sheriff was pleasant and curious, COMIC OOo S (C@