Adventure Magazine Cover — page 117: what you’re looking at

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

fearful wounds with each cast. It was very seldom that a stranger could find any dis- order at the Happy Fortune Bar. And yet, although knowing Old Tommy’s characteristic insistence upon ruling his own roost, the mountaineer soon discovered that the proprietor could be obsequious. This trait of depor able in his bearing toward the lone man at the end of the bar. The man’s ragged ap- parel and general disheveled appearance would not prepare one to expect him to’ be the recipient of any courtesy from the pro- prietor, and yet Old. Tommy neglected spendthrift customers to wait upon him. Had his appearance been more prosperous, Uncle Dick would have classed him as a professional gambler. This because of his round, steadily staring light eyes and the unusual pallor of his thin face. ‘“’Nother of yer partic’lar, Mr. Free,” urged Old Tommy ingratiatingly, shoving forwartl the bottle. WITHOUT removing his gaze from the entrance to the store, the man spilled a few drops of the strong liquor in the glass and liberally di- luted it with water, using his left hand. Uncle Dick murmured the name to him- self reminiscently; then he remembered. Jack Free, a very bad man, a killer by in- stinct. He had run a bloody course in Santa Fé until public opinion, backed by a posse, had ousted him. He had created his reputation of being a killer after Uncle Dick retired to the top of the pass. The mountaineer knew of him only through, hearing the freighters and traders discuss him at tke station. “He’s watching me,’ decided Uncle Dick. ‘Suspects every newcomer and ain’t sized me up yet. Looking for a man to tote a bullet to him every time the door opens. Don’t dare let himself go and get foolish with the drink.” Free continued his study of the moun- taineer simply because he was the last man to have entered the saloon from outside. Now, a man wearing a long Mexican blan- ket and high-peaked, broad-brimmed hat _ walked unsteadily into the saloon from the store. The implacable gaze of the killer caught the man at the entrance and fol- lowed him to the middle of the bar, waited while one shaky hand fumbled at a glass, then dropped him and wandered back to ent was now notice-. The ‘Gate. Through ‘the ‘Mountain = Uncle Dick. Now, however, the gaze was . less insistent. A little diversion was afforded when a hill- man slid from the settle and, with a miracle of balancing, managed to keep his drunken feet while he picked up a bag of specimens. Lifting the bag to his shoulder, he made for the bar with wide, rangy steps. Another drink was his objective, although from his | gait it was obvious he had had too much already. Hefellrather than walked the last five feet, and only saved himself from mea- suring his length by catching the edge of the high bar. The momentum of his approach spun-him sidewise and sent him reeling against Free. made a lightning movement that hurled the awkward one aside and, before the man fell to the floor in an inert heap, Free had him covered with a gun. : The tableau in which the killer was bend- ing forward, his nervous finger on the trig- ger, the miner on the floor gaping stupidly at the rough ceiling, his bag of specimens scattered in all directions, lasted for several moments while the spectators waited for Free to shoot. Then, with a legerdemain that was startling, the desperado’s gun van- ished from view and he resumed his former attitude without speaking a word. Old Tommy, relieved that an indoor tragedy had been averted, advanced the bottle and humbly invited— “Have jest ’nother tech of that trouble on me, Mr. Free.” Free waved the invitation aside and glared around the room, his round eyes as opaque and expressionless as two marbles. Those who were initiated into the externa! signs of Free’s working up of a homicidal rage became absorbed in their liquor, fear- ing to catch his eye and attract his atten- tion. Those nearest the exits surrepti- tiously estimated the time it would take to plunge from range of his deadly guns. Even Old Tommy shivered, for he had read the signs before. Free was approaching the point when only bloodshed would satisfy him. Shorty, searching for an excuse to get hold of one of his favorite knives, began carving a roast of meat, his round head oc- casionally turning in Free’s direction, as if revolving in a ball-and-socket joint. He carved very thin slices very slowly so as to make his pretense last. Gradually even those not knowing the | killer’s ways felt that a storm was brewing. q - . (e) y - % - a ae ZO vag ete Se ees on 7 * = _ a 4 . — With a catlike hiss Free ~