Adventure Magazine Cover, December 18, 1919 — page 34: what you’re looking at

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

. the yarn I got to spin tonight. ‘went outside. 20 night yeur dad died, the night I hid the money, was the night I—went blind.”’ “You haven’t told me about that yet, Bill,” said Packard gently. “No: but I’m goin’ to now. It’s part of Like I said I took the wad—your father had slipped it back in a flat sort of pockethook—an’ It was night already an’ dark. ‘Ten thousan’ bucks for me to keep safe for you!” _ Again he ran his hand across his forehead. “T knew where there was a rock in the cor- ner foundation of the house that I could work loose; where if I put the greenbacks they wouldn’t spoil if it rained or even if the house burned down. I stuck ’em in. there, got the rock back like it was before, made sure nobody saw me an’ went off by myself for a smoke. “ *Cause why did I take that chance? I didn’t take no chances a-tall, I tell you, Steve! How did I know, your father gettin’ delirious at the finish which came down- right quick, but he’d give the game away? An’ on the ranch then there was men that would do mos’ anything for ten thousan’, give ’em the show. - “Your gran’father had come over an’ he had brought Blenham with him an’ his mechanic, Guy Little; an’ there was a couple of new men in the outfit I’d picked up myself that I knew was tough gents. | “No! I didn’t take no chances, seein’ _the money was yours an’ not mine to fool ' with. I stuck it in the wall an’ I sneaked “off an’ for three hours I squatted there in the dark with my gun in my hand, waitin’ an’ watchin’. Which was playing as safe as a man could, wasn’t it, Steve?” Packard got up and came to Rovee’ S side, putting his hand gently on the fore- man’s shoulder. “Tt strikes me you’ve done rather a good deal for me, Bill,” he said quite simply.. “Maybe,” said Royce thoughtfully. “But no more’n one pardner ought to do for an- other; no more’n you’d do for me, Stevie. Don’t I know you? Give you the chance you’d do as much for me; eh, boy? Well, here’s the rest of the story: Your dad was dead; ol’ Hell-Fire was blowin’ his nose so you’d hear it a mile an’ I was feelin’ weak an’ sack-like, knowin’ all of a sudden that Phil Packard had been good to me an’ wantin’ to tell him so now it was too late. Late an’ dark as it was I went down to the aX ‘with their own tenseness. Adventure bunk-house, tol’ the boys to stick aroun’ for - orders in the mornin’, saddled my horse and beat it for a quiet place where I could think. I never wanted to think so much in my life, Steve. Remember the ol’ cabin by the big timber over on the east side?” “The old McKittrick place? Yes.” “Well, I went there to make a fire in the ol’ fireplace an’ sit an’ think things over. But I got to tell you about a feller name of Johnny Mills. You didn’t know him; he’s workin’ for the Brocky Lane outfit, now. Well, Johnny was as good a cowman as you want, but you always had to watch him that he didn’t slip off to go quail-huntin’. With a shotgun he was the-best wing-shot I ever heard a man tell about. “He used to sneak for the McKittrick cabin where he kep’ an ol’ muzzle-loadin’ shotgun, an’ shoot quail aroun’ them springs up there when he’d ought to be workin’. Then he’d come in an’ brag, tellin’ how he’d never missed a shot. The boys, jus’ to tease Johnny, had gone to the cabin that very day an’ drawed his shot out, jus’ leavin’ the powder alone so Johnny would think he’d missed when he pulled the trigger an’ no birdies dropped. “See what I’m drivin’ at? I tied: my horse an’ started along the little trail through the wild holly bushes to the cabin. Somebody was waitin’ for me an’ give me both barrels square in the face. That’s when an’ how my lights went out; Steve.” It came as a shock and Packard paled; Royce had been so long making his explan- ations and then put the actual catastrophe so baldly that for a moment his hearer sat speechless. Presently— ' “Know who did it, Bill?” he asked. “Tf I knew—for sure—I’d go get him! But I don’t know; not for sure.” His big hands clenched until they fairly trembled “It’s —— to-go blind, Steve!” His hands relaxed; he sat still staring into that black nothingness which always en- gulfed him. When he spoke again it was drearily, hopelessly, like a man communing with his own sorrow, oblivious of a listener: “Yes, it’s fair to be blind. If there’s anything worse I’d like to know what it might be. To be walkin’ along in the dark, always in the dark—to stumble an’ fall an’ hear a man laugh—to pitch head firs’ over a box that had been slipped quiet in your way——”’ Gomichbooks com <a “= es. = > - ag a, Peg Sev Se IT See oe eet gl OO een A a ee tl ee oe Ps ye