Adventure Magazine Cover — page 76: what you’re looking at

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

74 “This won’t do,” he decided. “I’m do- ing all the moving. If I could only get to that boulder, I could crawl up the other side and be on a level with him.”’ It was a long chance, but Jimmy took it, and he sprawled in behind the cover of brush and rocks, while a ricocheting bullet hummed away up the cajion, like an angry bee. The heavy screen of brush enabled him to crawl up out of the watercourse, and it seemed that this was just what the other man did not want, because he sent bullet after bullet threugh the brush, picking spots at intervals of a few feet. But in spite of his bombardment, Jimmy reached the top of the washout, where he sprawled on his face, panting heavily. The man put a few more bullets through the brush, which proved to Jimmy that the shooter did not know that he had reached the top. Jimmy’s face was bleeding badly, and his mouth was salty from sweat and gore. He found that his leg wound was also bleed- ing considerably, but gave him little pain. He took time to wrap his handkerchief around it to keep out the dirt. Then he began crawling again, snaking his way through the brush, trying to see the man who wanted to kill him. He came to the fringe of the brush, and peered out. He could see the man now; that is, he could see his head and shoulders and rifle. He was still watching the place where Jimmy had dropped behind the boulder, before climbing out of the washout. Farther down the cafion he could see the two horses, and on one was the figure of a girl, evidently roped tightly, because she was having difficulty in looking back to- ward the scene of conflict. Jimmy studied the man, and tried to map out a plan of attack. He was about a hundred feet away, but Jimmy thought the target too small to take a chance on his remaining shot. He saw the man look back toward the horses. He was evidently getting impatient. Brush grew fairly heavy along the slope, and Jimmy pondered the chances he might have to work his way to the horses without being seen. It would be a dangerous move, he decided. Any- way, he liked the cover of the boulder- strewn brush, and as long as the man was willing to wait, he would, too. He saw the man take off his hat and lift it above the top of the rock. It rather W. C. TUTTLE puzzled Jimmy. MHe jerked it down: quickly. Then he exposed it in another: place. It suddenly struck Jimmy that this man was trying to draw his fire, and his blood-caked features cracked into a grin. An insane desire to yell at this man_ gripped at him. He wanted to laugh, to joke this man. But his better judgment bade him be still. He saw the man move forward to another boulder, where he re- peated the cap-lifting. Jimmy realized that this man was getting impatient to have the fight finished. The man kept moving ahead, until he was masked from Jimmy, who crawled out of the brush and headed for the rim of the washout again, trading sides with the other man. For about thirty feet Jimmy crawled swiftly, dropped behind some cover and waited. It was about five minutes later that he saw the man again. He had moved farther up the cafion, possibly thinking that Jimmy had made his escape. By standing up, Jimmy could get a good look at this man, who was too far away for Jimmy to take a chance with the shotgun; so Jimmy dropped back into the washout, bent down low and headed in the general direction of the horses. But he had not escaped detection. A bullet sang past his ear, and he stumbled over a boulder, falling sidewise into a cut on the left-hand side of the washout. To the shooter, it possibly appeared as if he had been struck. Jimmy was half-standing, half-lying in the cut, when he heard the drumming of footsteps, as the man hurried forward. There was no chance of conceal- ment there. It seemed as if the man were almost over him, when he raised up, shoving the shotgun barrel over the rim of the wash- out. The man jerked to a stop, only fifty feet away, firing his rifle from his hip, just as Jimmy pressed the trigger. The bullet struck just in front of Jimmy’s face, filling his nose, eyes and [mouth with dirt, and the kick of the shotgun sent him running backward down the short slope, where he hooked his heel on a rock, and sprawled on his back. ; It was several moments before he could get up. He felt weak, nauseated, as he spat out the dirt, blinked tearfully and climbed to the top of the washout. Out there on the flat ground was the man, COMICOoOokSs Cc (C©@