Adventure Magazine Cover, December 18, 1919 — page 184: what you’re looking at

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

170 with no more success than attended the efforts of Alden. The common dislike between the big cowman, Ketcham, and the little erst- while crook had grown into a cordial hatred. Once it would have reached bloodshed, doubtless, had not Rancher Tom interfered. Ketcham had drawn back one of his huge legs to give Connie the feel of a number- ten boot,. when _Alden caught the burly cowman by the - shirt-collar and fairly lifted him off his feet. It was this final touch that changed Switser’s admiration for Alden into nothing less than idolatry. From that hour on, Switser followed Rancher Tom like a dog. The saat titith day dawned and the rustler was still uncaught. Alden tried to hide his disappointment and couldn’t. When he had finished his breakfasting, he went into the big, plain living-room and walked the floor with folded arms, drawn brows and a face as grave as death itself. He didn’t dread losing his tanch nearly so much as he dreaded los- ing the girl—that was the, insufferable part of it. Alice certainly would not -marry him without her father’s permis- sion. Bill Maddon had only her. He became aware that a pair of keen eyes were watching him from the front doorway and he wheeled irritably. “Well,” he snapped, “what is_ it, Connie?” Connie walked in. He now wore a shirt and trousers of khaki; they had been Alden’s and Black Isham had boiled them and boiled them until they had shrunk almost to a fit. One of Alden’s old broad-rimmed gray hats sat ludi- crously on the back of his head. “When you ketch him, Rancher,” mut- tered Connie, his voice sympathy itself, “you'll ketch“*him at night. There’s one more night left.” “Yes,” gloomily replied: Tom Alden, “and it'll be just like-all the rest o’ the nights.” E “There ain ’t any tellin’. © Why, Rancher, you ‘ve got to get him! You simply cain’t lose! PP Alden’s smile was poor indeed. “Real pretty,” said he, “to talk about. Different when it comes to doin’ it.” Switser jerked his thin shoulders up. “TI thought,” he said, “you was a real sport. Adventure Rancher. You try this one more night, Rancher, and you try like the devil.” The face of Tom Alden went a little ashen with a touch of anger. “You ain’t got any kick comin’, Con- nie,’ said he. “You’ve took on about fifteen pounds weight since you been here and you’re goin’ to get plumb well. What kick have you got, Connie?” “Since I commenced eatin’ ham-and and breathin’ air instead o’ eigaret smoke, yes,’ nodded Connie. “But I ain’t talkin’ about me. I’m talkin’ about you. You fight the fight right on out, Rancher. You be a real sport. “You go to bed early tonight like you was sick; then you sneak out and take up the watch over your cattle and I bet you'll have the irons on Bud Ketcham be- fore daylight !”’ The spirit of the smaller man was help- ful. Alden stiffened himself and smiled at little Switser. “T wouldn’t have throwed it up any- how—not until the last minute was gone, son,” he said, “though I appreciate your int’rest. If I win, you’ve got a lifetime job here at Rancho Alden, if you want it. 3) : “T want it,” Connie said quickly. Early that night Switser told the cow- men that Alden had gone to bed all tuck- ered out and didn’t want to be bothered, which wasn’t all falsehood, and immedi- ately afterward went to his own bed. Half an hour later Rancher Tom crept from the hotise and went toward his cattle. He had hardly entered the palmettos when Connie, armed with a shotgun, him- self crept from the house. Connie did not attempt to follow Alden. Two men at different points, Switser figured, could do twice as much toward spotting the rustler as two men at one point. He took up watch a little way from Alden— across the sea of palmettos. _ During all the long hours of that night Real sports lives until they dies, - he neither saw nor heard anything out of © the ordinary. He watched the dawn come, quickly as it always came, with a sinking feeling in his breast. Tom had lost, for this had been the last night. Had he caught the thief, there would ity been a noise, of course. At daybreak Switser. slipped back to cS —Gomichboo a 2 “ ike . ae ee ae ee ee ele ee (E(0)