Adventure Magazine Cover — page 49: what you’re looking at

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

A Pot of Gold they'll keep quiet unless I give ’em some- thin’. Then there’s this feller Hall. You may need protection.”’ “I'm not worried about Hall. His word’s good enough. But what are your friends liable to do?” “Well, suppose something Hanéied to this girl. Suppose you got implicated in some way. Where would you get off? Wentworth has some power in this State, hasn’t he?”’ “For Heaven’ s sake, don’t let anything happen to her.” “That’s what I’m saying.” Hill talked business. | “How much?” Markum asked. “Oh, about a thousand.” “Say, take the girl.” Hill observed he had overstepped the mark. His argument was wholly fictitious anyhow. It was based on a lot of Wild West stuff aimed only to scare. Hill hadn’t seen most of his men for weeks. He finally accepted three hundred dollars. The big gambler was most affable all the way up to the mines. Never was a more pleasant traveling-companion, so agreeable to the men and so gallant to the women. Helen’s mother, enthroned on a buck- board driven by the awed Tennessee, frankly looked on Hill as the one saving element toa boresome expedition. She voiced her opin- lon during one of the frequent halts. “He has a wonderful personality. So vivid. If this country owned more men like that it would be more interesting.” Wentworth looked puzzled. Markum looked weary. Tom looked alarmed. The party traveled slowly and arrived at the mines during the afternoon of the sec- ond day. After dinner, while the shadows lengthened in the cafion and the sunlight crept toward the tips of the hills, Went- worth led Helen about the place while her mother accepted the services of Jed Hill in raising a fine new tent brought especially for her use. Old Pete watched the polite goings-on from the doorway of his store. Finally he exploded. “What is this? One of them gol-darned lawn-parties? Look at that red-and- white tent. Look at Jed Hill bowin’ and scrapin’. Look at the new apron on the Chink cook. Look at them yaps over on the claims, tryin’ to look pretty. This here camp’s gittin’ most too galumpshus.” _ shack. 39 ‘“‘Where’s Markum?” asked Tom. Pete pointed up the slope, where the pro- moter was talking with the superintendent. “They’ve jest built a new shanty on top of the hill for the super’ntendent. Two-room Markum’s headquarters. I’ve been watchin’ it.”’ Pete ceased talking. Markum and the superintendent were coming down toward the store. The fat little promoter came forward con- fidently, trusting in Tom’s pledge. He ap- proached to within easy speaking-distance and looked at the store from its sloping tent top to its rough board walls. “Did you fellers survey this ground?” he asked at length. Tom replied. Pete wouldn’t. “I was just wonderin’.”’ “What about?” Markum hesitated for a moment. He produced a ‘black cigar and lighted it thoughtfully. “I’m sorry, boys, but business is feness This here store of yours is on company property. I’m afraid you'll have to move.” IX Vie” escaped with his life; but he got away because Pete reached for a deadly weapon. Tom saw the glint of steel and turned in a flash. He grabbed Pete’s arm. “Leggo me! savagely. “Put up that gun.” Pete in his anger tried to shove Tom aside. They wrestled while Markum soared up the hill, cursing his mistake. Pete struck at Tom wildly, trving to knock him away. Tom clinched. Pete loosed a blast of profanity and the partners rolled to the ground amid lurid blasphemy from Pete. - Markum, very red-faced, sailed over the top of the hill and went down into a cafion, crouching behind a friendly rock and mop- th} _ ping his forehead. Over near the store the partners had it out. “Leggo me!” howled Pete, trying to kick Tom’s shins. ‘“‘Durn ye, git off!’ “Not till you drop that gun.” “Are you goin’ to let that crook go again?” “Can’t help it now. He’s gone.” “Why in tarnation ; COmiclbook snarled Pete, jerking away: ©