Adventure Magazine Cover, February 3, 1921 — page 155: what you’re looking at

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

The Heart of the Range at the ranch. He hoped that Luke Tweezy would be there, too. Lanpher and Tweezy together, the pups. “Fat Jakey Pooley’s li’l playmates,” he muttered and swore again heartily. He understood now the true reason for Jack Harpe’s lack of activity. This pur- chasing by Lanpher and Tweezy of the Dale mortgage was the eminently safe and lawful plan of Jakey Pooley: In his letter fat Jakey had written that it would take Inger. And wasn’t it taking longer? It was. Racey thought he saw the plan in its entirety, and was in a ie accordingly. He would have been in coffsiderably more of a boil had he been blessed with the ability to read the future. When he rode in among the buildings of the 88 ranch his eyes were gratified by the sight of freckle-faced Bill Allen straddling a cracker-box in front of the bunk-house and having his hair cut by Rod Rockwell. “That’s right,’ Bill Allen was complain- ing. ‘‘Why in don’t yuh cut off the whole ear while yo’re about it?” “Aw, shut up,” said Rod Rockwell. “It was only the tip, an’ I didn’t go to cut it anyway.” “T don’t give a whether yuh went to cut it ornot, yuh cut it! I can feel the blood runnin’ down the back of my neck.” “That’s only sweat, you bellerin’ calf! Hold still, can’t yuh? Djuh want me to hurt yuh?” “Vou done have already,” snagled Bill Allen, fidgeting on his cracker-box® ‘You wait till I cut yore hair after. I'll fix you, I'll scalp you, you pot-walloper.”’ “That’s right, Bill,” said Racey, checking his horse beside the quarreling pair. ‘Talk to him. Give’m = ‘Lo, Racey,” grinned the two youngsters. ‘Where did you rustle this hoss?” asked Bill Allen. ‘‘Nev’ mine where,’ smiled Racey, for both Bill and Rod had been his friends in his 88 days and could therefore insult him with impunity. “I wouldn’t wanna put li’l boys in the way of temptation. Does the cook still spank him regular, Rod?” “Stick his hoss with the scissors, Rod,”’ begged Bill Allen. ‘“Let’s see what for a rider Mr. Dawson is.” a) RACEY pressed his off-rein against his horse’s neck. The animal whirled -on a nickel, and reared, hard held, 149 after the first plunge. plentifully showered the two punchers. Bill Allen swore heartily, for one of the pebbles had clipped his damaged ear. “You see what a good rider I am,” Racey said sweetly. ‘‘Can’t faze me nohow. Sit still, Bill, an’ lemme try can I jump the li’l hoss over you. Rod, do yuh mind movin’ back a yard?” “No,” said Bill Allen decidedly, and picked up his cracker-box and retreated backward to the bunk-house door. ‘No, you don’t play no such tricks‘as that on me. He’d just as soon try it as not, the idjit,” he added over his shoulder to Tile Stanton, who was peering out to seé what all the racket was about. “Let him try it,’ Tile Stanton advised promptly. “If the cayuse does happen to hit yore head it won’t hurt yore thick skull. G’on. Be a sport.” “Be a sport yoreself,’”’ returned Bill Alleng skipping into the bunk-house. ‘‘Where’s them other scissors? I'll finish this job my- self.”’ Racey, left alone with Rod Rockwell, smiled slightly. “Bill ain't got a sense of humor this mornin’,” he observed softly. “He must ’a’ thought I meant it.” © There was no answering smile on Rod’s features as he looked up at Racey Dawson. “‘Racey,” said he, laying a hand on the horse’s mane, “have you been to McFluke’s lately?” “T ain’t,” replied Racey, his smile fading out. “Then keep on stayin’ away.”’ “As bad as that?” “As bad as that.” ° “McFluke been talkin’?” was Racey’s next question. = “Tf McFluke was the. only one it would be a mighty short hoss to curry.”’ “Then there are others?” “Plenty.” Rod Rockwell gave a short, hard laugh. “All of Nebraska’s bunch, huh?” ‘All but Nebraska.” “How long has this been goin’ on—this talkin’, I mean?” ‘Doc Coffin started it about a week ago, He told Windy Taylor of the Double Dia- mond A he was gonna ventilate yore good health some fine day. He wasn’t drunk, neither.” ‘Then he must have serious intentions.” - ‘Somethin’ like that. Five of us heard COMMICMOOOkKs The flying pebbles : (C@