Adventure Magazine Cover — page 156: what you’re looking at

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

146 had often told her that she could talk the handle off a pump, and she and Brick were due for an argument every time they met. Suddenly she sobered and looked up at Brick. “Brick, why don’t yuh go to Weepin’ Tree once ina while? You ain’t been there for a week.” “Been busy.” “Veah? Know Pete Kane? He ain’t busy. Giddap!” Do yuh? pom THE team sprang forward, and the ae buckboard whirled off down the C208 road in a cloud of dust. Brick sat there and watched her fade off down the road. What did she mean? Pete Kane wasn’t busy? Was Pete Kane visiting the Weeping Tree ranch? Brick wrinkled his nose and wiped the perspiration off his face. Suddenly it struck Brick that he had no right to say where Pete Kane should or should not go. He wondered if Mrs. Wes- son meant to warn him. He knew nothing about Pete Kane—nothing against him. He was not friendly to Brick, but Brick rea- soned that that fact did not make him any less a man. There was nothing narrow about Brick’s philosophy of life. He did not hate his enemies, neither did he turn the other cheek. He tried to hate Jeff Seldon, but the effort was a failure. “Poor little devil,’”’ said Brick aloud; “his soul must ’a’ been made of green stuff, and his ma left him’ out in the sun and he got warped.” Mrs. Wesson was out of sight before Brick came out of reverie.. Then he touched his horse with his spurs and went on toward Marlin City. Brick had decided to go to Weeping Tree—tomorrow. But Brick did not go to Weeping Tree on the following day. News of the maverick situation had percolated considerable in twenty-four hours, and Marlin City’s hitch- rack held more than their usual quota of saddle-horses. The association men were in the majority, but few of them openly ap- plauded the idea. It was a time-honored custom—wrong, no doubt—but the old cow- men were satisfied with the old order of things. Brick was busy explaining his idea of it. Bunty Blair had acquired the Dollar Down saloon and gambling house, which was doing a thriving business on this day. Practi- cally all of the nearest ranches were repre- Adventure sented by either the foreman or owner. Neither Jeff Seldon nor Pete Kane was in evidence; but Breamer and Partner were there, saying nothing, but, as Brick observed listening considerable. They left early in the forenoon. “She’s all right,” said “Bunch” Thornton, owner of the AD brand—one of the old- timers. ‘“‘She’s all right, Brick, but I’d say she’s cuttin’ out quite a lot for one sheriff to handle. Sure as —— she’s goin’ to rise discussions.” “Tt ain’t a law,” argued Bill Voorhies. “Pears to me that she’s just a request. Mebbe they’re right, though. Maverickin’ sure does leave one big inducement for a feller to go crooked.” “T ain’t sayin’ a word,” grinned Lafe Freeman, “but I’ve been wonderin’ why Bill Voorhies’ cows all have twins and my cows never bring in a calf.”’ Bill Voorhies joined in the general laugh which followed, and every one faced the bar and took a drink on Bill. Scott Martin had taken no part in the conversation, standing apart from the rest. After the drink the party slowly broke up, without any one offering to back the sheriff or the associae tion. Scott Martin had taken no part in the conversation, owing to the fact that an ear affliction had caused partial deafness, and he was aware of the fact that men must shout to make him hear. He followed the rest of the men outside, got on his horse and rode away toward the ranch. Brick and Silent stood in the doorway of their office and watched the men ride away. “Didn’t see nothin’ of Seldon’s gang,” observed Silent. “‘Couple of his punchers were over in the saloon,’ replied Brick. Brick had told Silent of his run-in with Seldon and Kane the day before, and Silent had bewailed the fact that Brick didn’t cripple the both of them. “Vou look out for them,” advised Silent. ‘“‘Seldon’s a danged old centipede. Remind me of an old buzzard, with that yaller skin drawed tight across his sharp old face and that wrinkled neck. Betcha forty dollars his blood only circ’lates as high as his collar- bone.” Brick laughed and they went into the office. “Tot of fellers,”’ observed Brick, “ain’t got sense enough to protect themselves. GOMIGoOO S (© iin