Adventure Magazine Cover, February 3, 1921 — page 60: what you’re looking at

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

34 “Tt was a fool question,” he admitted. “But how long has he been working these parts?” “About two weeks, I should say. You’d think some one might get a line on his face, seeing that he wears only a narrow mask. But no one seems to know whether he has a big or little chin, high or low forehead. Who are you anyway? Where did you come from? When did you get here?” The voice was pitched low,-but now was very stern. Natchez did not resent the queries. He knew he might be under suspicion, being a stranger; and he briefly replied: “From St. Joe. With Laramie Pete’s wagons. He’s camped over the ridge. Pulled in this afternoon. I came on ahead to size up the town. “Tf Laramie Pete, California Joe and Tom Reason are any good as witnesses, I’m all right. If they ’re doubted then there is June La Blanche, the daughter of Laramie. She will say I’ve been with the train every minute since we pulled out and until this afternoon. If any one doubts her he'll look down my gun.” “California Joe and Tom Reason are enough. I never met them, but I know they’re all right. I don’t know Laramie Pete, but I’m positive his daughter is the best alibi a man could have. If any one bothers you before your friends pull in just say that Kitts will vouch for you.”’ “That’s mighty good of you. all licker?” “Why, yes; but I don’t think you need any more unless you’re thinking of climbing Pike’s Peak before breakfast.”’ Kitts’ attention brought Natchez inti- mately to the attention of the men. He had been surreptitiously sized up from the moment he entered the little settlement. Now he was inventoried openly. Kitts explained who he was and finished by saying he would be his sponsor. ‘This time Natchez did not dodge the liquor, but downed a dipperful without any outward flinching. The accumulated effect of his potations inclined him for excitement. He carried himself with a bit of a swagger. His bold dark eyes were overbright, and he gave back glance for glance, whether the man be lank Southerner or thin-faced Yankee. The conversation became general and ranged around three points—the latest Shall we Adventure gold strikes, the larcenous activities of the outlaw Half-Mask and the possibility of a transcontinental railroad. The last was rich as an incentive to ridicule. Regardless of their geographical bias all could unite in making game of such a gigantic undertaking, and many did so. A few risked much rough banter by in- sisting that the road would be built. They cited the various surveys made at the order of Jefferson Davis, Secretary of War. But once when for the sake of argument it was conceded that the road would be built the conversation became a powder- mine. No more joking then. No true son of the South would listen to the sug- gestion that the ocean-to-ocean road should run north of the slave States; and every loyal Northerner was as rabid against the line being built below Forty, except that it might dip south to strike through Kan- sas. Twice during the return to the gamb- ling-shed did Kitts’ voice avert trouble. Natchez’ blood was tingling and the gold burned in his belt. He told Durgin he must have action for his money. The Vermont man made a face at the announce- ment. “What do you mean by that monkey grin?” truculently demanded Natchez, rath- er eager to find himself affronted. “Just thinking of Lucky Denham,” glibly replied Durgin to avoid trouble. “He comes here reg’lar and bucks the bank and goes back broke.”’ “Nothing very funny nor lucky in that,” decided Natchez, scowling a rebuke. ‘“Mebbe not. But he’s get a secret pot hid somewheres. Always brings plenty of dust. Blows it in, laughs at his losses and goes away saying he has plenty more. You oughter see him. “The game’s been waiting for him to- night. He’s two nights overdue. Probab- ly took a long roundabout way so the boys couldn’t tumble to where he comes from. We've tried to follow him, but, land sakes, you might as well chase a weasel. ‘“’That’s why the men are sticking around. When he plays we keep off his bets and some of us is sure to make quite a little killing. He always loses.”’ “We'll. see if my luck ain’t better,” re- marked Natchez, elbowing his way into the shed until he stood before the rough counter. The sallow face of the gambler remained , COMMICLOoOokKs (C@)