Adventure Magazine Cover, February 3, 1921 — page 153: what you’re looking at

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

The Heart of the Range you lizard, an’ outside of my regular work I ain’t takin’ no orders from you. Don’t gimme any more of yore lip.” 3 “Aw, I didn’t mean nothin’, Alicran. You ain’t got no call to get het. I need you in the business.” “Shore you do,” Alicran declared con- temptuously. “You need me to do anythin’ you ain’t got the nerve to do.” ‘IT got my duty to my company,” Lanpher bluffed lamely. ‘Duty be ——. You ain’t got the guts for a tough job; that’s whatsa matter.” This was rubbing it in. Lanpher plucked at the loose strings of his courage, and managed to draw out a faintly responsive twang. “T’ll show you whether I got guts—” he began. "Oh, look,” said Alicran. currant-bush.” To Lanpher it seemed that the six-shooter was barely out of the holster before it was back again. But there was a swirl of smoke adrift in the windless air and the topmost branch of a wild-currant-bush thirty feet distant had been that instant cut in two. “What was that you was gonna say?” Alicran prompted softly. “T forget,” evaded Lanpher. ‘But they’s one thing you wanna remember, Alicran. It don’t pay to be squeamish. It comes high in the end usual. You'll find if you keep on bein’ mushy thisaway, that you’ll have more’n you can swing at the finish.” “Ts that so? You leave me do things my way, do yuh hear? Lemme tell you if I'd ’a’ knowed all what you was up to by comin’ to Dale’s this mornin’ I’d never have allowed rt”? “Allowed it!” “Ves, allowed it, I said. Want me to spell it for your You thumb-handed idjit, if you had any more sense you’d be a fool. Don’t you know that in anythin’ yuh do, no matter what, they’s no profit in un- necessary trimmin’s? Most always it’s the extra frills on a_feller’s work that pushes the bridge over an’ lands him underneath with everythin’ on top of him an’ the job to do again, if he’s lucky enough to be livin’ at the finish. ‘An’ yore swashin’ through that girl’s gyarden was a heap unnecessary. It was a close squeak you wasn’t drilled by Racey Dawson. I wouldn’t blamed him if he had let a little light in on yore darkened soul. “See that wild- 147 Done it myself in his place. An’ yore rub- bin’ in that mortgage deal was another un- necessary piece 0’ foolishness. It only made Racey have it in for yuh more’n ever. “An after actin’ like more kinds of a fool thataway in less time than anybody I ever see before you sit up on yore hunkers an’ tell me Pll have more’n I can swing at the finish. Say, you make me laugh. Listen, Lanpher, for a feller that’s come out second best with the Bar S outfit as many times as you have it looks to me like you was crowdin’ Providence a heap close.” ‘“That’s all right,’ sulked Lanpher, then added, with a sudden flare of spite— “When I hired you as foreman I shore never expected to draw a sky-pilot full o’ sermons into the bargain.” ‘““No?”.drawled Alicran, looking hard at Lanpher. “I often wonder just what you did hire me for.” On which Lanpher made no comment. “Yeah,” resumed Alicran, the fish having failed to bite. “I often wonder about that. Was it a foreman you wanted or a gunman? An’ what did Racey mean about Jack Harpe a-bearin’ down on yuh so hard, huh?” ‘Nothin’, nothin’, nothin’ a-tall,” Lan- pher replied irritably. “Tf Racey didn’t mean nothin’ by it, what did yore eyes flip for an’ why didja shuffle yore feet?” : “What th’ business is it of yores?” burst out the goaded manager. “None,” Alicran replied calmly. “I was just wonderin’. I got a curiosity to know why, thassall.”’ “Then hogtie yore curiosity or you'll be gettin’ yore time. I’m free to admit I need you, like I said before, but I can do without yuh if I gotta.” “That’s: just where yo’re dead wrong,” Alicran promptly contradicted. ‘You can’t do without me. Lanpher, I like the job of bein’ yore foreman. I like it so well that if you was to fire me I dunno what I wouldn’t do. You know, Lanpher, a man is a whole lot bigger target than the branch of a wild-currant-bush?”’ Frankly speculative, the eyes of Alicran — traveled up and down the spare frame of the 88 manager. Which gave Lanpher furiously to think, as it were. “Why, ” said he, forcing a smile, “I guess we understand each other, Alicran.” “Shore we do,” said Alieran cheerfully. ‘“‘An’ don’t you forget it.” = a (C@ DOOKS (C@