Adventure, December 3, 1920 — page 34: what you’re looking at

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

- 24 beside the dark-faced man. Was there any connection between these two? He intended to find out. Meanwhile he purposed to strengthen the impression that he really had a mineral claim in the draw. This would ex- plain his presence there and his desire for se- clusion. “T want to buy some supplies,” Kane. “All right; I’ve got ’em to sell,”’ said the store- keeper genially. ‘“‘Need-any tools?” Lang started. If he was going to make his mining bluff good he would have to do some work; make a showing at least. Did they know he didn’t have any tools? Condon did. But the cost! “Ves, I can use some,” he hesitated. “ve got a second-hand outfit here that a fellow left on a bill,” said Kane, leading the way into the store, “and [ll let you have it dirt cheap.” Lang bought it. “You'll want some powder,” said the store- keeper. “I’ve only got half a box of dynamite. Think that’ll last you till I make the next trip out?” “That'll do,” said Lang, relieved. Bransom was idling in front of the store. Without seeming to be watching, he was taking in every detail of the nature and extent of Lang’s purchases. Lang bought a bill of provisions and some cooking-utensils and dishes. A few personal needs concluded his requirements. ‘Tow much is the damage, Mr.—Mr.—— “Kane,” supplied the storekeeper. ‘“Let’s see.’ As he was figuring the amount Bransom re- turned to the saloon where the man Frued and Condon had remained. “Sixty-three dollars,” computed Kane. “Who is that dark-faced fellow who was mak- ing the talk?” asked Lang as he paid his score out of the ninety dollars which he had re- maining. “Name’s Bransom,” said the storekeeper, making change and getting a cigar for his latest customer. “Live hereabouts?” queried Lang. ‘ “Lives up in the gulch back of town with the fellow that’s out there with him—Frued,” re- plied Kane. “Seems down on mining,’ ” observed Lang. “Seems to he,” said the storekeeper. “What does he do?” “Runs a few cattle; that’s ’bout all. Don’t know much about him or his partner. Good many people up here I don’t know much about.” Lang disregarded the subtle hint. “That other fellow out there stopped up by my place last night; I was wondering if you knew him.” “Never seen him before this morning,’ he said to 9 ’ said Adventure Kane, evidently suspicious of Lang’s persistent questioning. “T’ll pack this stuff up on the horse I rode down,” said Lang. “TI left the pack-sacks out there by the door.” “Have a drink-before you go?” invited Kane. “All right,” said Lang, who wished to re- enter the barroom before leaving. - Bransom had evidently been helping himself, for he laid some money on the bar in payment. “Queer boots for a prospector to be wearin’, * he said in a loud aside to Frued. “Nothing queer about the way I stand in ’em, is there?” flashed Lang. He knew Bransom had intended him to over- hear the remark. “Good pair of ridin’-boots,”..was Bransom’s only comment. Lang turned toward Condon. “Find work yet?” “Not yet,” said Condon uneasily. “Still looking for it?” “Still looking.” “All right; I’ll give you a job helping me open up my mineral claim up there in the draw,” snapped Lang. Condon gasped and nearly dropped the glass he was holding. The others seemed interested. “You say you’ll—” began Condon. “Give you a job—if that’s what you’re look- ing for,” said Lang quietly. Then he added— “That’s providin’ you ain’t too high-priced a man.” ‘Said he’d take anything that’d bring in some grub a few minutes ago,’”’ sneered Bransom. “Suppose you mind your own business, Bransom, if you’ve got any,” said Lang de- liberately. “Oh, ’m just glad to see a man get work if he wants it,’ smirked Bransom. ‘Pil take the job,” said Condon hastily. ““An’ I don’t care what it pays.” Lang was still eying the dark-faced man and his partner. “One of your duties will be to keep an eye . and an ear out for chance visitors,” he said meaningly. “I think it’s pretty well under- stood around here that I don’t intend to be bothered none. I hate to be bothered.” “Oh, we heard about your dead- line, said Bransom. “And I want to tell you this, Sraiaomn” said Lang earnestly as he stepped close to the other; “that dead-line goes. Now if you want trouble you know right where to find it.” Both men leaned a little back from the bar with their arms crooked and tense and looked into each other’s eyes. “Sometimes a man don’t have to look for trouble—it comes to him,” snarled Bransom. “That works both ways, Bransom, and you know it.” (€(0) DOO (E@