Adventure Magazine Cover, February 3, 1921 — page 140: what you’re looking at

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

134 “Look at that,” said Piney Jackson, in- dicating a humped-up individual sitting be- hind the -wood-pile. Racey and the other spectators went round the :wood-pile and viewed the humped-up imdividual. The latter was Bull, the Starlight bartender. And he was dead, very dead. His throat had been cut from ear toear. He was a ghastly object. “Who done it?” inquired one of ‘the fools who infest every group of men. “He didn’t leave no card,” the black- smith replied with sarcasm. The fool asked no more questions. Came then Jake Rule and Kansas Casey. Jake, a rather heavy, well-meaning officer, old at the ‘busingss, began to sniff about for clues. Kansas Casey laid the body down on its back and thoroughly searched the pockets of ‘the clothing. ; “One ‘thing,’ said Kansas Casey, looking up from what he had found—a handful of silver dollars, a pocket-knife and a silver watch—“robbery wasn’t the motive.” Racey looked sidewise from under his eye- brows at Jack Harpe. The latter was star- ing down unmoved at the dead body. “Somebody must ’a’ hada grudge against Bull,” offered the fool. “You ‘think so?” said “Piney. real bright feller.” The fool subsided a second time. ““Lookit here, Jake,” Piney continued ‘to the ‘sheriff’s address, “you don’t have to kick my wood “all over the county, do you?” “T’m looking for the knife,” explained the sheriff, ceasing not to stub his toes against the solid chunks. “Feller after doin’ a thing like this gets flustrated sometimes an’ drops the knife. An’ fimdm’ the knife might be a help in locatin’ the feller.” All of which seemed sufficiently logical to the bystanders. Racey decided he had seen enough. Be- sides he wanted to camp closer to his war- bags. He should have been in his room be- fore this, and he would have been had he cared to make himself conspicuous by not going along with the crowd to see what Piney Jackson had found. Declining Swing’s earnest invitation to drink, he returned to the hotel? Swing went grouchily to the Happy Heart, wondering what was the matter with hisdriend. It was not like'the Racey he knew to play the hermit. Once in his room, Racey again explored his own and Swing’s saddle-bags and cantenas, “Vo’re a Adventure looked under the cots and through the bed- clothes. But he found nothing that did not belong to either himself or Swing. “They didn’t make a second trip,” he said to himself. “I’m bettin’ it’s Jack Harpe. Shore it is, the polecat.”’ Then in order to have a water-tight rea- son for remaining in the room he pulled off his boots and trousers, fished a housewife from a cantena and set about repairing a rip in his trousers. It wasa perfectly good rip. He had had it a long time. What more natural than that on this particular day he should wish to sew it up? It was an hour Jater that he heard the stamp of several pairs of boots on the stairs. He could hear the wheezing, labored breath- ing of Bill Lainey, the hotel proprietor. Climbing the stairs always bothered Bill. The latter and his followers came along the hall and stopped in front of Racey’s door. ‘This is his room,’’ panted’ Bill Lainey. Unceremoniously the latch was lifted. A man entered. The man was Jake Rule, the sheriff of Fort Creek County. He was fol- lowed by Kansas ‘Casey, his deputy. Jake looked serious, but Kansas was smil- ing as he closed the door behind him. Then he opened it quickly and thrust his head— into the hall. “No need of you, Bill,” he said. “Aw right,” said Bill aggrievedly, and forthwith shuffled away. Kansas withdrew his head and nodded to Jake Rule. 3 ‘“He’s gone,” he said. Racey Dawson, sitting crosslegged on his cot and plying his needle im most workman- like fashion, grinned comfortably at the two officers. Lord, how glad he was he had found that knife! If he hadn’t——— “‘Si’down, gents,” mvited Racey. ““There’s’ two chairs, or yuh can have Swing’s cot if yuh like.”’ Jake Rule shook his head. ‘We don’t wanna sit down, Racey,’’ he said. “We got a li'l business with you maybe.” “Maybe? Then you ain’t none shore about it?” “Not unless yo’re_ willin’. -Yuh see, Dolan’s drunk today, an’ of course we can’t get.a warrant till he’s sober.” “A-warrant? For me?” “Not yet,” said Jake Rule. search-warrant—firrst. ain’t willin’ we can’t touch ’em.”’ “Only a EOMICLOOOkKS But of course if you - (C@