Adventure Magazine Cover — page 73: what you’re looking at

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

THE BUCKAROO They rode to Blue Wells after dark that night, and found the three boys fiom the AK at the Oasis. Being Saturday night, there was quite a crowd in town, and the games were flourishing. Johnny Grant, Oyster Shell and Eskimo Swensen welcomed Hashknife and Sleepy with open arms. Tex Alden, Plenty Goode and Ed Gast were in from the X Bar 6. Tex was cor- dial, and talked with Hashknife about the dynamiting. Hashknife knew that Tex was wondering where Jimmy Legg was, and finally Tex asked him if Marion wasn’t afraid to stay at the ranch with only the Indian woman. ‘‘Jimmy’s out there,” said Hashknife. “Do yuh call that protection, Hartley?” Hashknife smiled, but said nothing. He was thinking of Jimmy and the short, ten- gauge Parker. Le Moyne and several of the men from the Santa Rita mine were in town. In the course of the evening Hashknife sat in on a poker game, in which Tex Alden, Plenty Goode, Johnny Grant, Scotty Olson and Antelope Neal tried to outguess each other in the pastime. Sleepy and Oyster Shell quarreled for hours over a bottle-pool game, which was being refereed by Eskimo Swensen, who had an injured hand, and was unable to play. It was within an hour of daylight when Hashknife drew out of the poker game. He had won enough to make it worth his while, and Antelope Neal said he had never been more willing to cash in any man’s chips and have his luck out of the game. Sleepy was glad to go home. “T’ve walked a hundred miles around that darned pool table,’ he declared, as they left the Oasis. ‘‘A pile of blankets will look like a bank-roll to me.” There was a cold breeze blowing as they rode back to the Double Bar 8, and the crimson glow of the rising sun painted the crests of the eastern hills, as they rode in at the stable and put up their horses. “Well, it don’t look like any more dyna- mitin’ had been done since we left,” ob- served Sleepy, as they walked across the patio toward the rear door of the ranch- house. ‘“All is serene,”’ said Hashknife, and as he spoke Nanah came to the doorway. The Indian woman was a pitiful sight. Her face was streaked with blood, her dress torn, and she staggered wearily. “For —— sake!’ gasped Hashknife. OF BLUE WELLS He took her by the shoulders, ‘‘What’s wrong, Nanah? What happened to you? Where’s Marion and Jimmy?” There was blood on her hair, and Hash- knife could see that a livid welt ran from her right temple and disappeared in her mop of disheveled black hair. “TI do’ know,” she choked. ‘‘Men come,” she brushed her hand across her eyes, as though to clear her vision. ‘Have rag on faces. Knock Jimmy down. Take Marion, go that way.” She leaned one shoulder heavily on Hashknife and pointed east. ‘Yuh mean that masked men came and took Marion?”’ She nodded dumbly. Hashknife led her to a chair and made her sit down. The room showed signs of a struggle, and there were a number of blood stains on the floor and walls. ‘What does it mean, Hashknifer’”’ que- ried Sleepy anxiously. ‘“‘Where’s Jimmy?” asked Hashknife. Nanah shook her head. She didn’t know where he was. “I hear much noise,” she said dumbly. “I come. Jimmy on floor. I run to door. Man hit me.” Her hand went to her head. “T fall on floor. JI do’ know. I look fronr window, I see.” “You saw ’em goin’ that way?” 4 ‘Yes.”’ “How many men, Nanah?”’ “T do’ know. I can’t see very good. Too much blood.” “How long ago, Nanah?” “T do’ know. Pretty sick in head.” “She got an awful wallop,” said Sleepy. “Prob’ly got to the window, saw ’em pullin’ out, and collapsed. What’s the program?” Hashknife ran through the house and came back. “The shotgun is gone,” he said. “They’ve taken Marion toward Broken Cajion, but the devil only knows just where. Nanah, are you all right? We’ve got to get help. You stay here.” “Pretty good,” she said. ‘You go quick.” They ran back to the stable and saddled their horses. The horses seemed to sense the need of speed, and the two boys mounted on the run. Sleepy stood in his stirrups, his lips opened in a soundless yell. This was action. They swung around the point of a hill, heading up through a swale, a mile or more from the ranch-house. Hash- knife spurred in close to Sleepy. 71 COMICLOOoKX (C@