Adventure Magazine, March 1916 — page 114: what you’re looking at

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

“TI2 “This is the only way out, hawss,” he said as he scrutinized the ground closely for dislodged shale or pebbles. Suddenly he straightened up with a grunt and remounted. “Up you go, lady,” mare at the steep cliff. She went at it like a cat, half scrambling, half leaping up the dim trail with straining haunches. At the top Sandy halted. A plateau sloped southward, set with clumps of chap- paral and tall cactus thickets. To north and west were scattered mesas of upstand- ing cliff, rapidly assembling into a moré solid wall, the ramparts of barren moun- tains. Far to the south some blue hills lifted in Mexico, beyond the Rio Grande. Sandy set the mare at a fox-trot, follow- ing readily the marks of a hurriedly ridden horse, showing plainly to his practised eyes in the loose, shallow soil. Presently he rein- ed in. Two more sets of hoof-marks had come from the maze of a cactus thicket to join the first. “Pretty open trail?’? mused Sandy. “They must have reckoned on a good staht.” In the distance a faint, yellowish cloud was hovering close to the ground. Sandy slapped his thigh. ~ “Dust!” he exclaimed. “They’ve stam- peded the cattle. Some one’s got brains in that outfit. I thought that trail was too open to be right.” He set the willing mare to a gallop in the - direction of the cloud. In half an hour it he said, setting the was close upon him, shifting and slowly | clearing in the still, hot air. Soon he was riding in a mélée of tracks in which the ones he was following were indistinguishably in- termingled. ‘The mare snorted at the sting of the dust in her open nostrils as they reached the dissipating cloud, and length- ened her stride as they passed from soil on to a stony floor, paved pec! with blocks of chalcedony. In half an hour more he poached the herd of steers, bearing the brand of the Curly O (“Q”), badly blown, their eyes still staring, slowly drifting back to their home feeding- grounds at the mouth of Salt Creek Cafion. Sandy groaned. “That lets us out, Goldie, hawss,’’he said. ““Goin’ south, they was. If they’ve crossed the Rio it’s goin’ to complicate mattehs. Then, again, it may be a bluff. They may have ridden out anywheres for five mile Adventure back, an’ doubled to the mountains.” ' He kept on to where the cattle had milled before they started homeward, and rode in a wide arc in the_hope of finding patches of softer topsoil that might hold trail. But there were none to be found, and Sandy re- luctantly turned ranchward. “They’s still the ransom to work on, Goldie, hawss,” he said. ‘“That’s the best bet of the layout, anyways. Move along, li’l hawss. I wonder if he’s hungry, the pore li’] son-of-a-gun.”’ III Za) IT WAS getting dusk when Sandy reached the ranch. As he rode round the barns, Barton and Mor- mon ran toward him. He leaned from the saddle at the sight of their excited faces. “What is it?” he asked. ““Come to the office,”’ said Barton. ‘“‘Bar- bara’s lying down. We’ve got a message. “Mexican Joe brought it,’ he went on. “You know him?” “Man that’s been cuttin’ firewood on the A-bar-A?” Barton nodded. “He brought this,” he said. “Claimed a man he didn’t know gave him a dollar to bring it to me.” “What time?” asked: Sandy, taking the square of paper. “He rode in about an hour ago. The man met him on the road five miles down,” he said. “I gave him another dollar and he left. Peters is trailing him.” ‘“That’s good,” said Sandy. “He may run on to somethin’, though I doubt it. This thing’s been planned. Probably that Mexican’s mixed up with it. No tellin’. Anyway they ain’t aimin’ to leave open trails. I lost mine in a bunch of our cattle.” He went to the window for better light, reading the note aloud: Dere sir weve got the kid. If you reckon him worth five thousand dollars you fetch tt to Chimney Rock termorrer and leav it on the ledg at the bot- tom of the rock. Come as soon as you like after sun- up. Not before. Dont bring no one with you neither. If the coast is cleer we git the munney and you git the kid inside of twenty fore hours. Better you let us git clear or you dont git the kid. Over. The other side of the sheet bore eight scrawling words— We wont hurt the kid if you hurry. comichbook (E(0)