Adventure Magazine Cover — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

THE BUCKAROO OF BLUE WELLS 5 walked out into the foggy street. He felt just a little weak over it all. It was hard to realize that he was at last without a job. It was the first time in years that he had been without a job, and the situation rather appalled him, and he stopped on a corner, wondering whether he hadn’t been just a trifle abrupt in quitting Mellon & Company. But he realized that the die was cast; so he went to his boarding-house and to his room, where he secured an old atlas. Spreading out a map on the bed he studied the western States. Arizona seemed to appeal to him; so he ran a_ pencil-point along the railroad lines, wondering just where in Arizona he would care to make his start. The pencil-point stopped at Blue Wells, and he instinctively made a circle around the name. It seemed rather isolated, and James Legg had an idea that it must bea cattle country. Something or somebody was making a noise at his door; so he got up from the bed. He opened the door and found that the noise had been made by a dog; a rough- coated mongrel, yellowish-red, with one black eye, which gave him a devil-may- care expression. He was dirty and wet, panting from a hard run, but he sat up and squinted at James Legg, his tongue hanging out. ‘Where did you come from, dog?” de- manded James. “I don’t think I have ever seen you before.” The dog held up one wet paw, and James shook hands with him solemnly. Came the sound of a heavy voice down-stairs, and the dog shot past James and went under the bed. The voice was audible now, and James could distinguish the high-pitched voice of the landlady, raised in protest. “But I tell ye I seen him come in here, ma’am,’’ declared the heavy voice. ‘‘A kind of a yaller one, he was.” “But no one in this house owns a dog,” protested the landlady. ‘We don’t allow dogs in here.” “Don’t ye? And have ye the rules printed in dog language, so that the dogs would know it, ma’am?_ Belike he’s in one of the halls, tryin’ to hide.” “T’m sure you’re mistaken, officer. But I'll go with you, if you care to make a search of the halls.” “Tl do that, ma’am.”’ James closed his door, leaving only a crack wide enough for him to see the land- lady, followed by a big burly policeman, come to the head of the stairs. They came past his door, and he heard them farther down the hall. The dog was still under the bed, and as they came back James stepped into the hall. “We are looking for a yellow dog, Mr. Legg,’ explained the landlady. ‘You haven’t seen one, have your” “Sort of yaller and red,” supplemented the officer. James shook his head. “Must be an important yellow dog to have the police hunting for him.” “He’s important to me,” growled the officer. “‘Jist a dirty stray, so he is.” “But why are you hunting for a stray dog, officer?” ‘Because he’s a dangerous dog. I threw a rock at him, tryin’ to chase him off me beat, and the dirty cur picked up the rock and brought it back to me.” ‘“‘A retriever, eh?” “T dunno his breed.” “But that doesn’t make him dangerous.” “Then I took a kick at him and he bit me, so he did. He tore the leg of me pants and I had to go home and change. I didn’t no more than get back on me beat, when there he was, probably lookin’ for another chance at me legs. But I took after him and I was sure he ran in here.”’ “Well, I’m sure he never did,” said the landlady. ‘But we’ll look in the other halls.” James went back in the room and found the dog sitting in the middle of the floor, one ear cocked up, his brown eyes fixed on James, his tongue hanging out, as if he had heard all of the conversation and was laughing at the policeman. James held out his hand and they shook seriously. “Dog,” said James seriously, “you did what I’ve often thought I’d like to do—bite a policeman. I swore out loud in Mellon and Company’s office, and you bit a cop. We're a disgraceful pair. I’m wondering if you’re a cattle dog—” James sighed heavily— ‘Well, anyway, you’re as much of a cattle dog as Jam a cowpuncher. Sit down and make yourself at home.” It was half an hour later that James Ea- ton Legg walked out of his room, carrying a heavy valise, while behind him came the 9) GOMIGDOO S C@