Adventure, December 3, 1920 — page 50: what you’re looking at

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

40 “Well, what do you think of it?” he asked as Condon entered. ‘Looks like this valley is all shut in by her- self,” replied Condon. “She’s sure rimmed in,” agreed Lang. “Ts there a trail out by the south end, sup- pose?” asked Condon casually. “Why, I reckon there is,” said Lang. down. the river, though. down the cafion that river busts through.” “Trail over the-.divide from there too, eh?” Lang paused in the act of putting a plate of beans on the table. “Why—was you figurin’ on “Just wondering how many exits there was,” said Condon hastily. ‘Sometimes that’s a good piece of information to have in mind,” remarked Lang thoughtfully as he sat down to the table. After the manner of men in the open they fin- ished the meal in silence. But once or twice Lang looked up to see Condon staring at him curiously; and once Condon seemed on the point of saying something but evidently changed his mind. Condon cleared the table and washed the few dishes while Lang smoked. Then for the best part of the afternoon the two reclined on their bunks and dozed. Finally Lang rose and left the cabin. Late in the afternoon, with Lang still absent, Condon opened the,sack in the cor- ner and filled his pockets with cartridges. Then he took the rifle and walked into the timber on the north side of the draw. “Not rs XXV ? THE sun had set when Lang returned. P32 He seemed surprized when he found fra} the cabin vacant. He lit a candle and instinctively looked in the corner where the rifle had stood. His brows arched when he saw that the carbine was gone and that fully half of the cartridge content of the sack had been removed. He looked quickly at the peg in the wall where Condon’s saddle usually hung. The sad- dle was missing. Lang snuffed out the candle flame with his fin- gers and hurriedly made his way down the draw to where the horses were feeding in a little meadow near the mouth. Two horses—his.own horses—were there; but Condon’s horse was gone. ‘‘Might have known it,” said Lang to himself. “Wasn’t- teally any use in looking. He never unsaddled his horse after he came back this noon.” Although he was troubled by rising suspicions Lang went about the business of getting supper. He was not ready to acknowledge that he knew the reason for Condon’s absence. , But in any event he did not intend to take unnecessary chances. Again he thought of leaving the val- A log couldn’t float Adventure ley, and again he felt that strange pang at the thought. He took his blanket and the tarp and went into the timber high on the south ridge, where he spent the night. When he returned to the cabin in the mornin Condon was still missing. Lang’s frown deep- ened as he prepared his breakfast; but still he held back the thought that lurked in his mind. After breakfast he saddled his horse and slowly climbed the trail to the ridge below the main divide. He followed this south, scrutiniz- ing the trails that led toward the eastern slope of the main range. In the afternoon John Thornton rode across the south end of the valley to the Miller cabin. “Joe, you seen anything of that bunch of Herefords I had down this way?” he called as * Miller came out from behind the house. “Saw ’em dayebefore yesterday, John; they _was on the east side of the valley ’bout two miles below your place.” “T know, They been in there for two weeks or so; but i can’t find head or hide of ’em todays Thought maybe they’d crossed.” “Don’t think so, John. I been running my few head on the west side an’ been over there every day for a week an’ didn’t see any of your cattle over there.” “Wal now, that’s strange, Joe. I can’t seem to find them cattle; an’ the east range is so clut- tered up with tracks I can’t tell which way they went—l’ve hunted ’em all day.” “They ought to be on the east slope some- wheres between here and your place, John; the feed’s good over there an’ they wouldn’t stray. There’s been nothin’ to bother ’em.”’ “Nothin’ we know of, Joe; but they ain’t there just the same. I’ve looked into every park ’tween here an’ home.” Miller’s brow wrinkled thoughtfully. “That sure 7s queer, mighty queer, John; sup- pose you go over the ground again. I'll go with you an’ take the lower parts while you follow well up on the ridges. Maybe they’re in the timber. They wouldn’t go up over the divide unless they was driven, John. “i “T know that, Joe; an’ if you want to len’ me a hand I guess I can find a way to do you a good turn some day.” “Never mind that, John; we 've got to stick together in here. We? re runnin’ our stock too high up in the hills not to help each other out when we can.” Miller went back to his barn and corrals and soon returned riding a stocky cow-pony. The two men crossed the river and went up on the east slope of the valley. At the edge of the casual timber growth they separated. ‘Thorn- ton took the upper trails and Miller kept to the lower portions of the range. Thus they made their way up the valley, searching for Thornton’s missing cattle. At COMIC OO (E@)