Adventure Magazine Cover — page 45: what you’re looking at

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

Clothes and the Man hang in Arizona for murdering Old Man Fletcher it doesn’t make much differ- ence.” “How’s that, pardner?”’ burst from Ed Rawlins. 7 “T thought it best not to tell the gentle- men who called at the hotel to warn me about this man that Buskirk shot Old Man Fletcher through the head in his own ranch- house because the old man wouldn’t tell where his money was hidden,” replied Cole. “You. see, gentlemen, I was pretty sure Fletcher would have friends up this way, and I didn’t want Buskirk hurt before I made good on that message I sent him.”’ “Somebody git a rope!’ bawled the fore- man of the Two-Line ranch. ‘I punched cows for Fletcher one time, and a whiter man never lived. Somebody git a rope an’ we'll string this coyote up on that cotton- wood outside!” . Cursing, several men, including Rawlins, started to rush Buskirk. Cole gave his prisoner a shove toward the bar and sprang in front of him with a gun in each hand. Buskirk cowered behind him fearfully. “Hold on, boys!” cried Cole, a metallic ring in his voice. “I’m not going to let you lynch this man, though he deserves it. I’ve got a bigger score to settle with him than any of you and if I am willing to let the law take its course you have no kick coming. Hands off!” The crowd hesitated, its savage gaze alternating between the guns in the deputy’s hands and his determined eyes. These men knew how to read other men. Finally Rawlins, the leader, gave his shoulders a pitch and threw down the rope somebody had handed him. “Thank you, gentlemen,” said Cole. proposition well before -you start. “T’d hate like —— to shed decent blood protecting a man like this, but I’m swern on the Book. By the way, I have made arrangements with your marshal to keep my prisoner in his calaboose overnight, and if any of you think about coming there after him I advise you to consider the I'll be hanging around there somewhere with my eyes wide open. Off you go, Buskirk!’’ he _ snarled at his prisoner. When they had gone, Cole prodding the other in the small of the back with the barrel of his own gun, the men they left behind them gave vent to a deep sigh. “Tf that hombre ever runs for sheriff in this county I’m goin’ to vote for him three or four times,’’ Sam Parker shouted. “If he only wouldn’t wear clothes like them,”’ Dugan voiced himself. seem natural.”’ “Buck, if your daddy owned eighty thou- sand head of cattle in the Pan Handle like his daddy does, an’ if you’d been all threugh the Texas University like he has, I bet a million dollars ag’in’ a rotten peg-rope you’d wear them kind of duds too,” he was an- swered by Hawkins. ‘‘Soon’s as he said what his name was I knowed all abeut him. Gamest little ranger the Lone Star ever paid money to, that boy.”’ “TDog-gone my buttons if I don’t git me some clothes like them!” declared Danny Phelps. “What for you-all figger to make a danged monkey outa yourself thataway, Dan?” snorted Peters in disgust. “’Cause why I sees them’s the kinda clothes sure ’nuff men wears, that’s what. for,” replied Danny admiringly. “Say, -ain’t he the sandy hombre?” “Don’t. 35 (COMME LIC)