Adventure Magazine Cover, February 3, 1921 — page 86: what you’re looking at

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

80 “What is it then?” “Tt’s what he an’ all th’ men on Cherry Crick would give all their dust to find. It’s th’ hidin’-place o’ Lucky Denham. His secret mine is mighty close by.”’ “Lucky Denham! Dead man’s tent!” shivereel Reason, edging into the free air. “His medicine was weaker’n water.” ‘“That’s ’cause he tried to mix it with Taos lightning,” said Joe. “See how th’ signs shapeup? Westart to find Half-Mask. He’s trying to find Denham’s lost mine. “We meet th’ Mask within a mile 0’ here an’ have a scrimmage with him. Neither he nor us knew anything ’bout this tent. He’s makin’ his first visit to this neck o’ th’ woods. But where’n sin is th’ lost mine?” “Where’n th’ amended Reason. ‘““Mebbe we'll l’arn both things if we prod round a trifle.’’ “But how could he do any minin’ with- out powder, a pick an’ a shovel?” puzzled Reasen, now squatting on his heels out- side the tent. ‘They say that Wakanaga, the first father o’ th’ Shoshone people, is mighty fussy ’bout th’ people that hang round this place. S’pose we draw out from here an’ look for that outlaw feller.” “Tf he could stand for a drunken feller like Denham ‘*°*Pears he couldn’t. Denham’s dead.” “Wal, now that I’m here I’m goin’ to look around for Denham’s diggin’s.” “How could he dig with no shovel nor ick?” “Left his tools at th’ diggin’s. Either that, or it’s free gold. Some place where he feund it all ready for th’ takin’.” “Tt brought him death.” “Mebbe Taos lightnin’ helped him over th’ divide. If he’d been sober he might ’a’ put up a fight when Half-Mask jumped him.” ‘He never had a chance, drunk or sober. Shot down from behind, Y dully persisted Reason. “Too much talk. Come along, or stick here?” “Not here,” is Half-Mask?” gruffly was the emphatic rejoinder. yay JOE circled the tent and at the back came upon a faint trail which he believed had been made by Lucky Denham. He followed it, pausing frequently to satisfy himself that Half-Mask was not spying on them. Adventure The path kept well within the evergreens and came to an end in a clump of dark pines. As they halted and stared about the circle of conifers the tinkling of falling water came musically to their ears. Drop- ping on all fours and pushing his rifle ahead of him, Joe crawled toward the sound, and grunted in disgust as he emerged at the back of the rock basin containing the mineral spring. Beyond the spring were the moccasins and -deerskins. Directly beneath him and in the bottom of the spring were the round objects he had seen when standing on the opposite side. “Old Wakanaga’s medicine is workin’ strong,’ groaned Reason. ‘Fetched us night back here.” ‘““What’s them things down in th’ water?” whispered Joe. “Look like toads turned to stone.” “Ym goin’ to have one.” “Don’t, Joey! Don’t touch th’ con- traptions! Lawd only knows how many years they’ve been there,” cried Reason in a pleading voice. “Think th’ earth’s goin’ to crack an’ rip open when I lift one o’ them?” sneered Joe. ‘Wal, let her rip! Here goes!” He leaned out over the spring, thrust his arm to the shoulder into the water and clutched one of the objects. It felt soft and velvety to the touch and he could not repress a little shudder. It was much like laying a hand on some repulsive reptilian species. Reason waited, his eyes bulging, possibly expecting the sky or earth to crack open at the sacrilege. Nothing happened, and with a low exclamation of triumph Joe fished up his loot. It was a buckskin bag, like those the Indians carried for a medicine pouch. Only this, because of its weight, he knew could not contain the usual valueless odds and ends of bones and feathers. Reason begged: “Drop it, ye fool! Bad luck to touch presents made to a medicine.” “Fool yerself,”’ growled Joe, holding the bag up before him. ‘No paint nor medicine truck in that pouch. Hf this ain’t Lucky Denham’s placer diggin’s, then I’m a Bannock!” “Ver head’s been touched by Wakanaga!”’ whispered Reason. “Ver own head is soft,’’ chuckled Joe, working at the rawhide string securing the mouth of the bag. ‘Th’ Injuns found free COMMICLOOkKS ico