Adventure Magazine Cover, February 3, 1921 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

The Road to El Dorado the herd of ponies on the edge of the village, where his own animal was grazing. A group of young braves strolled after him and became interested in watching the po- nies. The trapper made a circuit of the village, and several men kept near him, while young men on their ponies raced each other and always kept between him and the plains. “Sewed in here tighter’n a drum,” he mused as he finished his reconnaisance. His next desire was to have an interview with the white man. The Mexican’s re- cital of the fellow’s terrible blood-guilt had aroused Joe’s ire, but he did not proceed direct to the tent. Instead he loitered before the group bait- ing the bear. The animal was furious, and flecks of froth dropped from his gaping mouth as he.sat on his haunches and waved his paws like a boxer. A youth took advantage of his rage to run in behind him and strike him on the head. The bear whirled about, but the youth had danced out of reach. This was not counted a coup as the bear’s attention was held by others. The animal now fell to biting the raw- hide rope, and another youth darted for- ward, tripped on a coil of rawhide and sprawled face down beside the brute. As quick as a cat the bear was upon him. The trapper snatched up the coil of rawhide and flung it into the creature’s face, caught the youth by the foot and yanked him clear of the claws. Then to the silent circle he said: “The bear is too big medicine for boys to play with. Go and find a young wolf, or a buffalo calf. You try to run and fall down. You tie up a bear and call yourselves war- riors if you hit him when he is not looking. See! This is the way to count coup.” He shot out his arm and recovered the coil of rawhide and hung it on his left arm. One end he took in his right hand, allowing several feet to hang free like a whip-lash. Then, boldly approaching the animal, he snapped the end of the rawhide against the sensitive nose. The bear brought both paws to his nose and the trapper leaped for- ward and struck him lightly, first with one palm, then with the other; then was back out of reach. Pausing only long enough to secure his balance, he attacked again, the cord snap- ping the brute’s nose, the two light blows II being repeated. This he did several times, then walked on with a show of indifference. The spectacle had drawn nearly all the men about the bear, and after the trapper’s withdrawal the crowd remained to see the young men try out the new method. This was California Joe’s opportunity, and raising the flap of a tent, he ducked in- side. The white man sat on therobe, deftly manipulating a deck of cards. He did not glance up, but continued weaving the cards in and out, and then commenced placing them face up before him. Back of him crouched the blanketed fig- ure of an Indian, busily engaged in cutting notches on a stick. He did this with great swiftness, but as soon as he had cut five he would sigh dismally and throw up a hand with five fingers extended, then obliterate his tally with one sweep of the blade. Twice he went through this maneuver of cutting notches and shaving the stick smooth before California Joe remarked to the white man: “Yew ain’t goin’ to git it. Buried yer kings.” : Up jerked the white man’s head, blue eyes blazing on the intruder; but the hands never ceased shuffling the cards and placing them down in groups of threes. . “The man Satank was telling about,” he muttered. “Hew you called?” “California Joe. Who might ye be?” “Almost anyone. Happens I’m called— or was before I quit white men in Frisco— Old Oakes.” “Gamblin? man?” “Something like that.” “An’ caught by these Injuns while travelin’ west.” “Traveling east, the luck! Fool to quit the coast. Traveled to Taos with big party. Then through the Sangre de Cristo mountains with four friends. Wewas mak- ing for Colorado. Then we was jumped.” “Ye been tellin’ Sitting Bear I’m bad medicine for him?” asked Joe. The gambler laughed softly. ‘“T’ll tell them anything to keep my hairon. I told him a few days ago that he was the king of clubs and-that the king of spades was his enemy. -Now you come in with black hair and whiskers, and he reckons you’re the king of spades. 3 “Couldn’t let a heart or a diamond be his enemy, or that might turn him against me. Too bad to worry you, but it’s all in the’ cards and the way they run.” GComichoo (C@