Adventure Magazine Cover — page 179: what you’re looking at

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

THE APOSTLE a few shacks, with the desert all around. I stayed here and worked. I helped build this town. Boys, don’t you know that a newspaper is a sure sign of the coming of civilization? You’ve done a bad thing to- night. For yourselves more’n for me. And for the town. I planted this paper here in the desert, and brought it up— The Prairie Flower—”’ “Flower, !’? cut in young Jake. “Weed, yuh mean! An’ now we cut th’ dirty weed down—”’ “Shut up!” snapped Frank Jessup. This was no time to jeer. All their hearts went out to Tim. But it had to be done; it was tragic, pathetic, but necessary. Old Mike wet his lips and stared aimlessly around, avoiding Tim’s eyes. The others shifted uneasily. Frank Jessup said gruffly: “Didn’t wanta do it, Tim, but yuh wouldn’t promise. We can’t haveour names sent all over th’ county, an’ maybe copied in some o’ th’ big city papers. Now you— Grab him!’ Too late. Little Tim Wiley was gone. Frank Jessup leaped to the open window in time to see his coat tails whisk around a corner. E. sheriff, Augie Underholtz, was ; worried. He knew the rumors that were going around, and knew they were well founded. A crowd was coming to get Dave Ellers. And not a crowd of wild-eyed young punchers, either; but grim, determined old-timers; men like Augie himself. Augie wasn’t a coward. He was a good sheriff, and would-be bad men in these parts had found him a tough customer. Nevertheless, he didn’t relish what was coming. It was too bad, he told himself, that good men had to fight over a yellow-backed animal like Dave Ellers, in there trembling in his cell. One thing was certain—Augie’s heart wouldn’t be in it. There came a sudden hammering at the door, and Augie, gun in hand, called out— ““Who’s that?”’ “Me— Tim Wiley! Open up, Augie!’ Augie unlocked the door and the little editor burst in. “They’re comin’, Augie,” he panted. “Mike Sloan an’ Frank Jessup an’ Jud Mace an’—” 173 “Yeah.”” Augie nodded. “I been ex- pectin’ ’em, Tim.”’ ‘“Where’s Sam?” Augie’s deputy. ‘“‘Won’t be back till t’morrow mornin’. I sent him over to Loadstone to bring back that feller that run off with a couple o’ Triangle-T hosses. Just th’ way things Sam Cavanaugh was happen.” ‘This is bad, bad, Augie!”’ Tim sighed deeply. “TI tell you what, Augie; you make me deputy. Ill help you hold Dave. Can’t let °em take him away, Augie. Law an’ order—”’ ‘“Yeah.”? Augie sucked in his lower lip and squinted at Tim. “Ain’t never seen yuh handle a gun, Tim. Kin yuh handle one?” “Some, Augie. held open his coat. “Fi’mm,’? murmured Augie. First time he’d ever known Tim to pack a gun. The sheriff reached into the drawer of his desk and brought out a shining star. He pinned it on Tim’s coat, thereby making him deputy sheriff of the town of Sunbake. Augie put out the light in the office, then went to the window and looked out. Across the street a small group of men had gathered, their faces turned toward the jail. Another group had formed a little way down the street. The whole town, it seemed, knew what was in the wind, and most of them were heartily in agreement with the friends of the murdered Tom Campbell. Many of them would join the old-timers. The jail, Augie knew, would not with- stand a determined assault. It was a frail building barely capable of keeping in a hali- dozen men, much less of keeping out a half- hundred angry citizens led by such grim old frontiersmen as Mike Sloan and Frank Jessup. So Augie was in a quandary. Were the coming men young punchers, Augie would have known just what to do; he would have met them at the door, grinned at them, cracked a joke and got them laughing; then he would have invited them all to the Mirror for a drink. Wild young colts with the bits between their teeth were easy for Augie. Boots sounded on the board walk outside. Lanterns flashed. A voice called: ‘Augie! Open the door!’ Augie glanced out the window. There I got a gun here.” He COmiclbooks.c©