Adventure Magazine Cover — page 158: what you’re looking at

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

148 Brick knelt beside Scott Martin, drew down one of the outflung arms and gently turned him over on his back. Martin was not dead. His eyes were open and staring, and his heart-beats were jerky, but he was still alive. Brick knew it was no use to examine the wound. Brick knew nothing about surgery, except to try and stop the flow of blood, but Scott Martin was not bleeding badly. There was a spot of blood between his shoulders, but no sign of a wound in the front of his shirt. BRICK got to his feet. He did not know exactly what to do. Suddenly he saw a rider, cutting the hill, far across the ravine. Brick waved his hat and yelled, but the rider was too far away. Then Brick pointed his pistol at the sky and six shots echoed across the hills. The horse stopped. Brick waved his hat. The man swung his horse around and rode straight toward Brick, who walked a little farther up on the hill and waited. The man was Lynn Barnhardt, of the Lazy H. He was traveling cautiously up out of the ravine, when Brick called to him and he came on a gallop. Brick walked back to where Martin lay. “Howdy, Brick,” said Barnhardt, and then his eyes dropped to the man lying at Brick’s feet. His glance swept to the trussed calf and the smoldering fire and then back to Brick. “Pick’s ’em young, don’t he?’ Barn- hardt’s voice was serious. ““Somebody shot him,” said Brick. Barnhardt looked curiously at Brick and then down at Martin. “Yeah, it looks kinda that way. Dead?” “No. See anybody in the hills today, Lynn?” Barnhardt shook his head. “How yuh goin’ to get him to town?” ‘Have to get a rig, I reckon. Will yuh stay here and—kinda watch him, while I get a rig and a doctor, Lynn?” _ “Sure—go ahead. Whose calf is that, Brick?” “Tt never got branded,” replied Brick; “but its ma wears a Nine Bar Nine.”’ “Oh!” grunted Lynn. “Lafe Freeman’s, eh? Go ahead, Brick.” Brick rode furiously back to Marlin City. Lafe Freeman’s team and buckboard was still at the hitch-rack; so Brick went straight into the Dollar Down. He found a Adventure poker game in progress, and Lafe Freeman was sitting behind a large stack of chips. “Scott Martin has been shot,” states Brick. ‘Can I borrow your rig, Lafe?’’; “Shot?” exclaimed Bunch Thornton, starting out of his chair. ‘Scott Martin?’ “In the back,” replied Brick. ‘‘Where’s Doc Meyers?—anybody know?” ‘“‘He’s over in the restaurant,” said Le Blanc. ‘I see her go in dere jus’ now. I’m go to her—me.”’ Le Blanc lumbered out of the doorway and across the street, while Lafe Freeman bow-legged his way to the hitch-rack. Bunch Thornton bought a bottle of whisky from Bunty, shoved it into his pocket and ran for his horse. Bunch believed that nothing was as good as whisky in case of lead poisoning. Doc Meyers came out of the restaurant door, urged by Le Blanc, who was talking more French than English, much to Dec Meyers’ mystification. Lafe yelled at the little doctor to come a-running, and the cavalcade dashed out of town, Lafe and the doctor riding a bouncing buckboard drawn by two running broncs, while ahead rode Brick and Bunch Thornton. Brick and Bunch left the road near the ravine, but Lafe Freeman asked no ques- tions. He had often sworn that he could drive a buckboard anywhere a man could ride a horse, and he almost proved it. The doctor held on with both hands and prayed for the journey to end, while Lafe whooped at the broncos and drove them down into the ravine and out on the other side. The doctor fell off the seat a hundred yards from where Barnhardt was speaking to Brick, but Lafe drew up with a flourish | and jumped out. een DOC MEYERS lost no time in idle ma speculation. His examination was ~~ Yapid, and no one spoke during the time he opened the back of Martin’s shirt and disclosed the bullet hole. The bullet had struck between the spine and the shoulder blade, on the right side. Meyers bandaged the wound and then motioned for them to put him in the buckboard. “Ts he hurt bad?” asked Brick softly. “Yah. Bullet is in him yet. Likely one of them .41’s. That flat end on the bullet kinda stops it. Looks like it paralyzed him. Maybe—we’ll have to wait and see. Might be hard to recover the lead.” GOMIIGooOoO S (© iin