Adventure Magazine Cover — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

12 There! That was the way to float a mine! Tell people about it! Sock it to 7em! Give ’em both barrels! If he could start something like that, all would be well. “Durn it, Pll start as soon as I can see Tom!” he exclaimed. ‘‘That’s the ticket. No use to stick in this slow town.” A yell came from down-stairs. There was a crash of glass, a thump and a shot. Twenty voices shrieked. Pete looked out of his paneless window. He saw a slim person in shirt sleeyes hurtle out of the dance-hall below. The man leaped on a pinto pony, slashing it with a quirt and crouching low over its neck while it streaked up the street. From the dance-hal! rushed two profane men with six-shooters in their hands. They fired like mad and ran into the street. The fleeing person turned a corner and disappeared. Pete went down-stairs two steps at a time. In the barroom a crowd was gath- ering around a limp form on the sawdust. There was an awed quietness in their man- ner. Folks were speaking in low tones. ‘“What’s the trouble?” Pete asked of a cattleman. “One of Johnny Finley’s gang slipped in and killed Ed Wainwright. Right in broad daylight! Right in Jed Hill’s favorite saloon! Gosh!” Old Pete clucked sympathetically. “What'd he kill him for?” “Jest devilment, I guess. He came in here, right in the middle of four-five men. He grabbed Wainwright’s gun-hand and cussed him out. Wainwright threw a glass with his free hand. Then the feller shot him. Right in the middle of Jed Hill’s crowd! Gosh, what nerve!” “What did the crowd do? Nothin’?” “Not a darned thing. Jest stood like they was paralyzed. It happened before they had time to wake up.” “What’ll Jed Hill say?” , “TY dunno. Here he comes now. Guess T’ll back out. I don’t want no dealin’s with Jed Hill—not me!” The masterful leader of the gangs strode through the door. All eyes turned toward him. Sensing something amiss, he went forward alertly, halting at sight of the body and stooping over it. “Who did that?” he demanded. A member of the retinue made low-voiced explanations. Jed Hill’s cold eyes nar- Adventure rowed: He nodded once or twice while he looked around, seeking certain men. His lips curled with scorn. ‘“‘What were you fellers doin’ meantime?”’ he demanded. There was a jumble of words while four men tried to speak at once; but Hill cut them short. His punishment was swift. He picked one man for the example, and his subsequent actions were not pleasant to witness. It was deliberate ferocity, aimed to punish, and to uphold the Hill prestige. The victim was battered with fist, boot and gun-butt. The crowd was thoroughly cowed. At length Hill calmed down. When next he spoke he was comparatively mild. He seemed to be addressing the still form on the sawdust, but his voice reached to every corner of the room. ‘Johnny Finley and his gang’s got a little too fresh. I’ve been wantin’ peace, but we can’t have peace. All right. From now on we'll make war. Get Johnny Finley and his crowd dead or alive.” Jed Hill spoke truth when he said he wanted peace. The fed‘lion does not want to hunt. Hill did not want to fight. His leadership was absolute and his income assured from many sources. | Gambling-tables and _ liquor-stills paid him percentages. Investments in preda- tory enterprises often brought good profits. So did dance-hall girls. And other enter- prises. Hill did not want war, but he could not overlook this recent affront. ‘“Who’s with me?” he roared. ‘Put up your right hands. I want to know.” Hands shot into the air by the dozen. A few on the fringes held aloof, including old Pete, who got out. Certain quiet remarks on the fringes showed Pete that the leader’s arrogance was breeding future trouble, but Pete had his own perplexities. EVENING came. Night came. See——_ Strolling about town after supper, ——— Pete snuffed a vague excitement in the air as if folks were expecting something unpleasant to happen. The old prospector’s intangible sixth sense bade him keep out of it so he slipped his ragged blankets out of -the “hotel”? and made himself a bed in the corner of a moonlit corral on the outskirts of town. “T’ve gotta go to the city,” he yawned as .- cCOmicloolks CO