Adventure, December 3, 1920 — page 121: what you’re looking at

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

eh re (PV eee Ary ‘ : ; Re Mali. 4 et NI, : a! me The Worm The ranger’s eyes popped op ““How’d you get that way?” vaiked the soldier skeptically. “Listen,” Jones said.. “I got this sack full of nuggets ’way down in Mexico, and I said they wasn’t anything in the earth or under it or over it that could keep me from gettin’ this stuff to the safe side o’ the Rio Grande.” ‘You must of loved that gold awful bad,” the ranger opined. “T did, mister. I been out of this United States six years. If I had come back I would have been put in jail for maybe a coupla years.” “What’s that?” “Yes. Because I didn’t have any money. I got fined a thousand bucks by Uncle Sam’s judge at San Anton’ and I escaped without payin’ it. I been wanting to get back, ranger. I want to pay that fine. I’m aching right now for you two gents to arrest me and take me to the nearest bank and the nearest jail and lock me up and send me down to San Anton’. I want your protection for this gold and for me.” “You ain’t kiddin’ us?” asked the soldier, squatting down and staring at the sack. “No, sure I ain’t,’”’ Jones assured. He drew the yellow, dusty cement-sack be- tween his spread-out knees and began to pluck at the knot of the middle string. On the in- stant Barley, across the water, broke out with his terrible laughter. 4 rae, > we hes .* 4 a: ~. Pte So ‘ Cae 25 Ses mi . oe . ai 4 : reget io); <> . te’ , . . > ' ~'e - / & , » > = "= «) r Ri Be v 4 a5 Mae ) ast “3,46 a — - ‘, pete} = ae " ¥ * ante® ‘ ¥ = t This is an n Off The-Trail story. See second Contents page. HE yellow water of the river clucked and gurgled under the stern of the sam- pan. It was a dull rainy day, warm and sodden, but to Tong it seemed full of sunshine, for he had at last perfected his trap to catch water-rats, on which he had worked so long. that Turned II! “Who’s your friend?” asked the ranger. ‘And why don’t he come across?” ‘He looks funny from here,” the soldier commented. “And laughs funny.” “Him?” Jones evaded temporarily. He threw the middle string aside and shook the contents together at the rront of the sack so they could all be dumped out together. Then he began to untie the string at the mouth of the bag. The laughter on the other side of the river grew more ecstatic. His chuckling grew to a senseless chattering, high-noted, awful cackling of mirth. Jones threw aside the string from the mouth and took the back corners of the bag between thumbs and fingers to tilt it up. ‘That feller across the river,” he said, ‘“T had a time with him, But nobody ever got ahead o’ me—man er brute, male er female— er God, even. Now watch the yellow boys roll out!” He began to tug gently at the sack, until one more movement would cause the contents to spill. Then he flicked it, so that the stuff inside came out in a heap. As the three stared at the heap, the laughter on the other side came across to them very clear. Instead of nuggets from the bag, there lay a little pile of black porous lava-rock. i AW: Callison The trap hung by a cord from the stern window, which was but a few inches above the surface of the water. His view was not com- prehensive. He could see only the red hull of a neighboring sampan, bruised and shabby, and a small stretch of yellow swirling river. Presently a fat rat approached breasting the EOPNICLOOKS (C@)