Adventure Magazine Cover — page 71: what you’re looking at

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

THE BUCKAROO in their own language on being interrupted at their morning meal. It was not a cow, but a horse, which lay at the bottom of the ravine; a gray horse, partly eaten by buzzards, but with the brand stillshowing. Sleepy quickly noticed that its right fore leg was broken about half-way between knee and hock. Further investigation showed that the animal had been shot through the head, and that the shooter had held his gun so close that the powder had scorched the hair. “Broke a leg and had to be shot,” said Sleepy. ‘“‘Not so very long ago.” They mounted and rode back to Marion, who had waited for them. Sleepy ex- plained what caused the buzzards to con- gregate. “‘What brand was on the animal?” she asked. Sleepy rubbed his nose thought- fully. ‘‘Well, it happens to be a Double Bar 8.” “One of our horses?” “Veah—a gray. Weigh about a thou- sand. Got some dark spots on the rump, and its fetlocks are almost black.” “Why, that horse belonged to Buck! He didn’t ride it often. But I never heard Buck say anything about shooting it.” “And pretty close to home, too,” ob- served Jimmy. The little ravine where the horse lay was not over an eighth of a mile from the Double Bar 8 stable. “Tf the wind had blown down from that direction, we’d ’a’ knowed it before this,” grinned Sleepy. The discovery of this horse interested Sleepy. He felt sure that Buck would have mentioned it at the ranch. The horse had either fallen into the ravine and broke a leg or stepped intoahole. It was also very evident that the rider had mercifully put the animal out of its misery. And Sleepy wondered who, except some of the Taylor outfit, would be riding a Double Bar 8 horse so near the ranch. He rode to Blue Wells that evening and met Hashknife, whom he told about the dead horse. They found the sheriff at his office, and he let them in to see Buck Taylor. Buck was glad to see them, but denied knowing anything about the horse being dead. “T ain’t seen that horse for quite a while,” he said. “He wasn’t exactly a good cow-horse; so I let him drift. Plenty of OF BLUE WELLS 69 speed, but he never seemed to sabe what it was all about. Who do yuh reckon killed him?” ‘Somebody must ’a’ borrowed him, I s’pose,” said Hashknife. ‘“‘Well, I wish we was out of here,”’ sighed Buck. ‘With all this shootin’ and dyna- mitin’, I sure hate to stay here. I’d like to find the dirty snake that’s doin’ it all.” - Hashknife and Sleepy left the jail and went to the livery-stable, where they had left Hashknife’s horse that morning. Hash- knife had nothing to say about his trip to Encinas, and Sleepy knew that questions were useless. Hashknife always worked on the theory that a secret is safe only with one person. It was about ten o’clock when they ap- proached the Double Bar 8, riding silently. There was a light in the ranch-house win- dow, and as they drew closer they heard Jimmy’s and Marion’s voices blended in “After the Ball,” accompanied by the old upright organ. The two cowboys drew rein and listened. Off to the left of them a horse nickered softly. They peered in that direction, thinking it was a loose horse. Then they went on, their horses making little noise in the sandy road, and drew up just outside the patio entrance. They could hear Marion and Jimmy laughing, as Marion tried to strike the right chord on the old organ. Something prompted Hashknife to walk from his horse to the patio entrance, where he stopped quickly. A man’s voice snapped a warning, a streak of flame flashed toward him, and a bullet crashed into the corner of the entrance. Two men were running toward the broken place in the wall, stumbling over the débris. Hashknife drew his six-shooter and fired twice, yelling at Sleepy to circle the wall. Another bullet whined off the adobe wall near him, as he started across the patio, heading for where the men had gone out. Sleepy had dismounted, and he did not think to mount and ride. In fact, he hardly knew what it was all about. He ran around the wall and almost collided with Hash- knife, who sprang out through where the dynamite had wrecked the wall. “What the was it?” panted Sleepy. “Sh-h-h-h-h!”’ whispered Hashknife. “Listen.” They stood against the ruined wall, straining their ears for the slightest sound. COmiclbooks Cc C@