Adventure Magazine Cover — page 79: what you’re looking at

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

THE BUCKAROO OF BLUE WELLS weakly, a silly smile on his dirty face. Men ran to them, while others unroped the sagging figure on the other horse. It was Dug Haley, of the Santa Rita mine. He was conscious, but unable to stand. Willing hands lifted Jimmy off the horse, but his left leg was too sore for him to stand on it for several moments. “I—I got him,” Jimmy told Hashknife hoarsely. “Filled him full of shot. We had a regular battle down in the cafion.”’ The sheriff was goggling from one to another, trying to get things straightened out to his own mind. MHashknife went to Marion. : “Tell us what you know about it, Marion,” he said. “Oh, I don’t know very much, Hashknife. Three masked men came, and they—I heard the noise, when they fought with Jimmy, and came out to see what it was about. They had knocked him down, and I thought he was dead. ‘They told me to not be afraid, and that everything would be all right. It seems that I wasn’t to be hurt. They put me on a horse, and we went to Broken Cajon, where two of the men turned back. They were masked all the time; so I wasn’t just sure who they were, because they changed their voices. “One man took me down into the cajfion, and I think he heard Jimmy coming. Anyway, he tied the horses and went back toward the bottom of the trail. I heard a lot of shooting, and I was sure somebody was trying to help me, but I never thought it was Jimmy, until he shot Dug Haley. “We had a hard time getting him on a horse, because Jimmy was so weak he couldn’t help much. But we made it. We’ve got to get Jimmy to a doctor, be- cause he’s all cut to pieces.” Haley was sitting on the ground, goggling at every one. He had lost a lot of blood, but his mind was clear. Hashknife saw him eying the bodies of Le Moyne and Porter; so he stepped over to him. “Haley,” he said kindly, ‘“‘the game is up. You better come clean, because yo’re the last of the three men who stole that pay-roll. Al Porter did not go to Encinas the night of the robbery, and more than that, he and that girl of his busted up two months ago. Which one of yuh rode Buck Taylor’s gray horse that night, and had to kill it up there in that little cafion?” a7 “That was me.” Haley spoke hoarsely. “Oh, ——, I might as well admit it. Le Moyne schemed it, and we helped him. But our luck broke bad. Le Moyne had to be at the depot when the train came in, and Porter had to be on the other side of Broken Cajfion to pick up a freight early in the mornin’—or when one come along; so it was up to me to take the money to Santa Rita, where we was goin’ to hide it. “T kinda got off in my bearin’s, in the dark, and found myself too far south. Then that —— gray horse fell and busted a leg. I had to kill it, yuh see. Then I had all that gold to carry. It wasn’t safe to cache it in the hills, because I didn’t know the country well enough.” Haley smiled grimly. “T seen the light from the ranch-house, and I was sure it was the Double Bar 8; so I packed the gold down here, lookin’ for a place to hide it. Back of the bunk-house I found a hole under the foundation. I scratched a match and looked it over. It wasn’t big enough for anythin’ but a small dog to get through; so I shoved that money under the bunk-house, and went back to the mine.”’ : “And then dynamited the bunk-house, eh?” queried the sheriff. “Like , we did! That’s why we kidnaped the girl. We wanted to draw everybody away; so we could dig the —— money out of the ruins. But we wasn’t goin’ to hurt her. I was to keep her in the cafion until about noon, and then let her come home. Our idea was to get Hartley and Stevens away from here long enough to let us get the money.” “And it’s still under all that adobe, eh?” smiled Hashknife. “If Le Moyne and Porter didn’t get it out. I wish you’d get me toadoctor. I’m full of buckshot. That —— tenderfoot! We didn’t count him in a-tall.”’ “T didn’t need to be counted,” croaked Jimmy. “But what I want to know is, who shot me, and who blew up the bunk- house?” Hashknife stepped over and put a hand on Barnhardt’s shoulder. The Blue Wells attorney’s lips went white and he tried to draw away. “You tell ’em about it,” advised Hash- knife. “Just be a man and speak yore little piece, Barnhardt.” DOOK (C@