Adventure Magazine Cover — page 179: what you’re looking at

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

The Sheriff of Sun-Dog “Go ahead, son,” chuckled Lafe. “They'll all listen.” Lafe had slid his belt around when he sat down and the butt of his old single- action Colt was concealed under his folded nands. In this position he could get into action without any unnecessary motion, and nobody could check him by grasping his arms. Brick glanced around at the crowd. Sitting, humped down in their chairs near the center aisle, were the two _ sheep- herders. Standing in the aisle, with his left hand resting on the back of Sharp- shooter’s chair, was Le Blanc, who nodded toward the two sheep-herders as he caught Brick’s eye. Le Blanc was not armed, but depended on his mighty hands for of- fense or defense. Brick looked at Kane. “Turned the shepherds loose, did yuh?” “There wasn’t nothin’ to hold ’em on,” growled Kane. Brick nodded. “That’s right, I reckon, only yuh turned ’em loose too late to do you any good.” “What do yuh mean?” asked Kane. ‘They wasn’t hired to miss nor talk. They done both, Kane.” Came a sudden movement, as Sharp- shooter started out of his chair, but Le Blanc’s hand clamped on his shoulder and shoved him back. ‘‘She’s h’all right here, Breek,’’ boomed Le Blanc. Reses; KANE glared at Brick and then = looked at Seldon, who was humped up in his seat; his skinny head drawn down into his collar, like an old snapping- turtle. His eyes flashed like a pair of amber’ beads, and his hands fussed nervously with the lapels of his coat. ‘What about them horseshoes?” asked Sloan. ‘The man who shot Scott Martin rode the horse that wore those shoes,” declared Brick. ‘Where did yuh get ’em, Brick?” in- quired Cale Wesson. ‘Hangin’ to a nail on the sheep-herders’ cabin,” grinned Brick. ‘““Eryin’ to hang the crime on a poor sheep-herder, are yuh?” Seldon’s question was a whining bit of sarcasm. “‘No-o-o.” Brick pursed his lips and shook his head, as though he was correcting a 169 child. ‘Yuh don’t need to get nervous, Seldon, ’cause I’m goin’ to hang the dead- wood right where she belongs. Tell me about this here deed to the Weepin’ Tree ranch, will yuh?” “What’s that got to do with it?” growled Seldon. “Just to prove that yuh own it, Seldon.” Seldon took a folded document from inside his coat and tossed it to the table. “Anybody here know Zell Mohr’s signa- ture?” inquired Brick. “T do,” replied Judge Grayson. “Know it well.” Brick handed him the deed, and the judge studied it closely, while the crowd seemed to relax. “No question about it,’ declared the judge. ‘“That’s Zell Mohr’s writing and signature. It is witnessed by Pete Kane and Bill Voorhies. Ain’t nobody writes just like Zell did.” “Voorhies, did you witness this deed?” asked Brick. “T did.” “‘Satisfied?”’ sneered Seldon. “Of certain things,’ nodded Brick. “Is it recorded?” “Not yet. I been kinda busy and——” “You hang onto it, judge,’ ordered Brick. Seldon shot to his feet. “Gimme that deed!’ he shouted. belongs to me, you—you-—”’ “Calm down,” advised Brick softly, and then snapped, “‘Set down!” Seldon dropped back into his seat, shak- ing with anger. Brick looked at Jack Smith for several seconds. “Your name is Smith?” Smith shifted his feet and seemed in- clined to ignore the question, but finally nodded. ‘Buyin’ horses for the British Govern- ment?” Smith was plainly irritated. “‘What’s the meanin’ of the questions?” he growled. ‘“‘Would yuh mind coming up on a front seat?” asked Brick. “I want yuh where I won’t have to talk over other folks.” Smith’s eyes narrowed and he started to fold his arms. “The red-headed gent asks a favor,” said Silent, who had moved in close to the end of Smith’s row of seats. Smith looked up at Silent, who towered “That GOMIIGoOO S (© iin