Adventure Magazine Cover, February 3, 1921 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

The Road to El Dorado 7 “A white man? Who is he?” excitedly demanded the trapper. ,. The Mexican crossed himself and said: “Heis the devil. Staysinatent. Came here from the big village on the Canadian. Captured by Dohasan with four other whites. Sold their livesfor his. Setangya thinks he is big medicine. I wish he was in —.” “That couldn’t be Tom Reason. — Sold their lives——”’ “They come to bring us in,” interrupted Garcia. “I have told you nothing about the gringo. Your eyes will tell you when you reach the village.” As he spoke he pointed to a band of horsemen emerging from the cover of a low bluff and bearing down upon them. Anxious to appear eager to visit Sitting Bear and his people, Joe urged his horse forward at full speed. Garcia followed a few rods behind him, his dark face seamed with apprehension. There were a dozen warriors in the party, young men at the beginning of their careers. As they neared the trapper they divided so that he must ride between them. Without hesitating, he drove straight ahead and as he passed through the line the braves wheeled about and fell in behind him to cut off any retreat. With figure erect, his face toward the smoke of the vil- lage now rising above a low hill, the trapper galloped on. A brave dashed alongside, seized his bridle and screamed like a fiend. Joe did not appear to see him, but gave his mount both heels, causing the animal to leap violently ahead and nearly drag the Indian from his pony. As if discovering the man for the first time Joe checked his horse down to an easy canter, and in the Kiowa tongue greeted: “T did not see my young red brother. I hope I did not hurt him.” “Why do you come to the Kiowa coun- try?” demanded the infuriated brave. “T come to talk with Setangya. I have no time to talk with his young men who get in my pony’s way.” ‘“T have sung the travel-song. I have taken the path against the Tehaneko (Tex- ans.) I have killed the Bedalpago (hairy- mouths, or Americans). I have a green scalp.”’ “Vou are a gua-dagya (travel-song) man. You follow little paths,’’ sneered the trapper. ‘I come to talk witha chief, who gives the pipe and follows long paths.” Not daring to murder the man on the way to talk with Sitting Bear, the young brave fell back to become the butt of his com- panions’ wit. With never a glance at his escort Joe rode on by the ruins of Bent’s old fort, a portion of the adobe walls and a chimney still standing. The village consisted of thirty conical- shaped tents, the excellent grass and abun- dance of fuel being in decided contrast to the conditions at Timpas Creek. ‘That it was a village and not a camp was proved to the trapper when women and children ran out to meet him. Before these could surround the trapper another band of horsemenappeared, veteran warriors. Riding exquisitely, their trap- pings gay with plates of beaten silver and colored beads, they cut in ahead of the women. They were armed with bows and arrows and lances, while a few carried guns procured by trade or by raids into Mexico.- They spread out as had the first band, and without glancing to mnght or left, the trapper rode into the village and leaped to the ground. He was quickly surrounded by women and children, each wearing a new blue blanket. Three men with red blankets, as befitted sub-chiefs, haughtily remained in the background. “Where is the white man?” the trapper inquired of Garcia. The Mexican inclined his head toward a tent. The flap was pulled back and the trapper glimpsed a man seated cross-legged on a robe and throwing down cards, while an Indian wearing much toggery seemed to be trying topick out a certain card. The white man had snow-white hair, The Mexican drew close to the trapper and hissed: ‘““Setangya asks the white man about his medicine. All these new blankets came from the white man’s.friends. They were killed. They were from California.”’ ‘““Prob’ly takin’ their stuff to new gold- diggin’s,”” mumbled Joe to himself. ‘‘An’ th’ skunk must ’a’ betrayed ’em.” . - Sitting Bear now rose and rearranged his red blanket and strode from the tent to meet the trapper. For a few moments he stared intently into the trapper’s face, then seized his hand and shook it slowly and aired his Spanish with: COmiclbooolk< (C@