Adventure Magazine Cover, February 3, 1921 — page 38: what you’re looking at

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

32 into action, and several twenty-eight-inch arrows, tipped with steel, hurtled about the trappers. ‘Too strong meat for me!” bellowed Joe slipping back and running down the slope to his horse. ‘Tread th’ trail, Tommy, across th’ crick an’ into th’ hills. We can lick any Injun that ain’t bullet-proof, an’ that man is.” As the two caught their animals and splashed into the stream Oakes and his Indian galloped. alongside. “Play it out together for a while?’’ he called to Joe. The trapper nodded, his morale disturbed by the futility of his shooting. Gast THE Kiowas were forced to re- ©; NS treat and secure their ponies be- fore they could resume the pursuit, and by the time they topped the hill the three white men and their red companion were disappearing into a narrow defile on the opposite side of the creek and were soon lost to view. Joe led the way, never hesitating in tak- ing the turns. Reason rode behind him. He was the first to speak, his words showing he was conducting some argument with himself. “Medicine didn’t cover his pony,” he angrily insisted. “Wore an iron shirt,” bruskly called out Oakes from the rear. Joe started as if stung. He recalled Sitting Bear’s question—could he ‘turn aside a rifle-bullet?” followed by the avowal that the Kiowas could. “There was a Iron Shirt by name among th’ Cheyenne, an’ another with th’ ’Pache,” spoke up Reason morosely. “And there was Iron Shirt, the Comanche. Killed in the Antelope Hills on the Ca- nadian last Spring,” replied Oakes. “Ugh! I knew him. Called that for wearin’ some ol’ Spanish harness under his buckskin war-shirt. Didn’t know he was wiped out. How’d ye know?” asked ‘Joe. “Have friends in the tribe. Stopped with them a bit.” “Thought ye’d come straight through with yer white friends till th’ Kiowas got ye to git ’em to give up their arms so’s they could murder ’em?”’ “Thought we was running from Indians and not swapping secrets,” fiercely replied Oakes. - questions, Adventure “All right. But some time we’ll have room to have a real talk an’ ask quite a few ” was the calm reply. ‘An’ I’d feel better if ye rode next to me an’ my friend rode behind ye.” Reason promptly dropped back and allowed Oakes and the Indian to ride ahead of him. Oakes showed his teeth,in a pecu- liar smile, but did not seem to resent the trapper’s lack of trust. Joe then reverted to the coat of mail with the remark: “So th’ arrer man had ol’ Iron Shirt’s iron shirt on. Let’s go back an’ shoot him through th’ head to prove it.” “Don’t have to prove it. I saw the shirt in the Kiowa village. Old Walking Wolf must have been wearing it. You two. can go back if you want to.” ‘‘T ain’t carryin’ no pipe ag’in’ th’ Kiowas jest now,” protested Reason. ‘Th’ ’Rapa- hoes oughter be friendly, an’ I’m goin’ for to see ’em” For several minutes California Joe re- mained silent, revolving some question in his mind. At last he said: ‘Lots o’ folks comin’ to git Colorado yaller dust. When I quit th’ mountains prospectors from Georgy an’ Kansas, an’ a few immigrants was layin’ out two she- bangs opposite one to’other on Cherry Crick. Auraria an’ Denver they called ‘em. Reckon th’ last will be th’ winner, bein’ as it’s named after General Denver, gov’ nor 0’ Kansas. ‘Some Cherokee Injuns are helpin’ th’ Georgy fellers look for gold. Cherokees are mighty bright for Injuns. But it ain’t no country for a white man once them Bosting folks herd in. ‘“What’s th’ good o’ gold even if ye find it? Awful job to git it East where it would be safe; an’ who wants to live East? An’ ye can’t spend it for anything in th’ moun- tains.” “T’m bound for the mountains, for. Denver and Auraria—and for the gold,” spoke up Oakes. ‘Ye’re welcome. Th’ trail’s broke out,” encouraged Joe. “Only thing to tempt me to go there would be to look ye up an’ settle a score yer Injun ain’t ever whittled into his stick.’’ Then to Reason: ‘‘What say to beatin’ north to th’ Oregon Trail an’ gittin’ back on th’ Columbia, Tommy? Ye never see that country right. I was a fool for quittin’ it. Had a good job sellin’ wood to a Army post. COMMICLOoOokKs (C@