Adventure Magazine Cover — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

6 W. C. TUTTLE dog, walking carefully, peering around the legs of his newly found master. At the foot of the stairs they met the landlady. She stared at the dog and at James. “That was the dog the policeman was looking for!’ she exclaimed in a horrified screech. ‘‘Don’t let him come toward me! You get that dog out of here, Mr. Legg! You know we don’t allow dogs in here. Take him—”’ “That dog,” said James calmly, “‘is very particular who he bites, ma’am. If my bill is ready—”’ “Oh, are you leaving us, Mr. Legg?” “‘Ves’m, me and—er—Geronimo are leav- ing. If any mail comes for me, forward it to Jim Legg, Blue Wells, Arizona.”’ “Oh, yes. Blue Wells, Arizona. Are you going out there for your health?” “Well,” said Jim Legg, as he paid his bill, “T don’t know just how it’ll affect me physi- cally. It’ll probably be a good thing for Geronimo—give him a change of diet. And for the good of the police force I suppose I better phone for a taxi.” And thus did Jim Legg, erstwhile James Eaton Legg, quit his job, adopt a dog and start for Blue Wells, just an isolated spot on the map of Arizona—all in the same day. CHAPTER II THE PREACHER’S HORSE T WAS the biggest two-handed poker game ever played in: Blue Wells, and when ‘‘Antelope Jim” Neal, owner of the Blue Wells Oasis Saloon, raked in the last pot, ‘“Tex’’ Alden rubbed the back of his hand across his dry lips and shut his weary eyes. He had lost eight thousand dollars. “Ts that all, Tex?’ asked Neal, and his voice held a hope that the big cowboy would answer in the affirmative. ‘The game had never ceased for thirty-six hours. “As far as I’m concerned,” said Tex slowly. ‘I don’t owe yuh anythin’, do I?” “Not a cent, Tex. Have a drink?” “Veah—whisky.” Tex got to his feet, stretching himself wearily. He was well over six feet tall, habitually gloomy of countenance. His hair was black, as were his jowls, even after a close shave. There were dark cir- cles around his brown eyes, and his hand trembled as he poured out a full glass of liquor and swallowed it at a gulp. ‘“‘Here’s better luck next time, Tex,’’ said Neal. “Throw it into yuh,” said Tex shortly. “But as far as luck is concerned—”’ “Tt did kinda break against yuh, Tex.”’ “Kinda, ——! Well, see yuh later.” Tex adjusted his hat and walked outside, while Neal went to his room at the back of the saloon, threw off his clothes and piled into bed. At the bar several cowboys added another drink to their already large collection and marveled at the size of Tex Alden’s losses. “°F T lost that much, I’d have a of a time buyin’ any Christmas presents for m’ friends, next December,” said Johnny Grant, a diminutive cowboy from the AK ranch. | “There ain’t that much money,” de- clared “Eskimo” Swensen, two hundred pounds of authority on any subject, who also drew forty dollars per month from the AK. “It takes over sixteen years of steady work, without spendin’ a cent, to make that much money. Never let anybody tell yuh that there is any eight thousand in one lump sum.” “And that statement carries my in- dorsement,”’ nodded the third hired man of the AK, “Oyster” Shell, a wry-necked, buck-toothed specimen of the genus cowboy, whose boot-heels were so badly run over on the outer sides that it was difficult for him to attain his full height. “There has been that much,’ argued “TI ’member one time when [| “Eighty,” interrupted Oyster. “Yuh got so drunk you seen a coupla extra ciphers, Johnny. I feel m’self stretchin’ a point to let yuh have eighty.”’ “T votes for eight,” declared Eskimo heavily. “Eight thousand ain’t so awful much,” said “Doc” Painter, the bartender, who wore a curl on his forehead, and who was a human incense stick, reeking of violets. Johnny looked closely at Doc, placed his Stetson on the bar and announced— “Mister Rockerbilt will now take the stand and speak on ‘Money I Have Seen.’”’ ‘“‘“Misser Rockerbilt,” Oyster bowed his head against the bar and stepped on his new hat before he could recover it. ‘“‘A-a-a-aw, ——!’’ snorted the bartender. GOMIGIOO SS C@