Adventure Magazine Cover, December 18, 1919 — page 185: what you’re looking at

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

Number Ten Boots a the Rancho Alden’s big house and peered through a dining-room window. Alden sat at the table with a cup of coffee in his hand; his eyes were fixed stolidly on some object on the other side of the room. Connie thrust the shotgun under the house and went unseen back to the palmettos. He felt that it would be bet- ter if he didn’t face Rancher Tom just then. ) He crept deep into the shade, stretched himself out on the carpet of soft pine needles, went to sleep and dreamed finally that he was a pall-bearer at the rose lady’s funeral. WITSER sat up with a start, his brow flecked with cold perspiration. The rose lady! He hadn’t forgotten the little lady of the roses. It was then that he thought of the way out. It-was a hard way out, but it was the only way. He'd have to be a man of courage, like Rancher Tom or Bill Maddon, if he did it. He decided that he would do it. It was as much for the sake of the rose lady as it was for Rancher Tom. The plan came to his mind complete from the first. There was nothing to finish, nothing to think out. He went to the big house and found Black Isham tidying the living- room. . “Where’s Rancher?” he asked. *““Misto Alden,” Black Isham answered promptly and very pompously, “he have done gone to Dale, suh, on biz’ness. He driv the new yallah hoss and the old one and he tole me to have dinnah ready at one o'clock shahp, suh.”’ Gone to throw it up, Connie told him- self. Gone to give over all he had on earth. Gone to pay his bet like a gentle- man. Connie jumped. He looked at the face of the nickel-plated alarm clock on the table. It was then half-past twelve; -he had until four of that afternoon before the thirty days would be done. As he turned for the front door he heard footsteps on the veranda just be- yond it. He opened the door and there stood Rancher Tom. He drew Alden in 171 and rushed him to the privacy of the left front bedroom. Once there, he turned and faced the wondering ranchman. “Good old Tom,” he said feelingly, “‘it was you teached ‘me to be a game-cock. I sure cain’t bear it to treat you so low- down mean. You ain’t failed to ketch the rustler, Tom. You’ve got him right now and it ain’t too late. It was me! I wore a pair o’ number ten boots to fool you! Take me to Bill Maddon and the jail, Tom. It’s all off. You ain’t lost the ranch nor the rose lady. Put your irons on me, Tom, before I change my mind and run!” He held out his arms, but Tom Alden had-no irons for those slender wrists of Switser’s. He took Connie’s hands in his and looked, his eyes brighter than new - gold, toward the open doorway. Con- nie’s gaze followed Alden’s. There stood Bill Maddon and the little lady of the roses, and they were quite dressed up. “Did you hear that?’ smiled Rancher Tom. “Bill Maddon, when it comes to sporting blood, you and me ain’t any- thing but pikers, This little man here, he’s the real sport of us all, all right. You understand it, Alice, don’t you?” Alice did understand fully. She went straight to Switser and kissed him, her lips tremulous, on the forehead. Connie swayed at the sweetness of-it. “What's the matter, Rancher? What does it mean, anyhow ?” “Tt means,” quietly answered Tom Alden, “that I caught Bud Ketcham— I was awful su’prized—drivin’ off cattle last night. He drove ’em down the edge o’ the river, where the water would wash out their tracks, toa couple o’ pals. And it means, fu’thermore, that Bud is in jail and I’m a married man and the good woman who just kissed you out o’ the fulness o’ her heart is my cherished wife. “The only thing I regret about it, son, - is that I didn’t have you for a best man at the weddin’. Surely to goodness you're the only man in this part o’ the country that’s got any real right to wear number ten boots.” Gomicbooks = - - eT Ce a ee (E@)