Adventure Magazine Cover — page 77: what you’re looking at

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

Part I CA Five-Part Story HUGH PENDEXTER, 424 Author of “The Torch Bearers,” “Wolf Law,” etc. CHAPTER I THE MAN WITH THE GUNS ELOW the rim of the Bitter Root Mountains the sun was kindling a mighty fire for a hot day’s work in the Snake River It lacked an hgur of sun-up when D. 0) basin. “Shoshoni” Hale parted from his companion a few miles north of the Payette River and resumed his quest. That his might be a grim business was suggested by the .44 Henry repeating rifle, the aristocrat among long guns, and the two eight-inch Colt revolvers of the popular .36 caliber. There were but few men in this Summer of ’sixty- five who did not carry arms in the Territorv of Idaho during the frenzied race for gold, buf even the road-agent and the killer sel- dom carried a rifle and two hand-guns. As Hale picked his way through the clumps of sage-brush he kept his gaze on the ground, searching for signs in the bunch- grass. He had no eyes for the glowing east and the many shades of purple and violet, the color heritage of arid lands only. By midday the plains would be a sickly yellow or somber russet-brown or a depressing gray. Now it was as if the doors of a sub- terranean furnace were flung open while a new world was being created. Far off mountain peaks, unseen during the haze of broad day, stood forth high in the heavens, peaks of amethyst and sapphire, floating in ** Lost Diggings,’’ copyright, 1921, by Hugh Pendexter. 67 space as their bases. remained lost in the shadows. As the magic of the coming day increased in potency the earth shadows shrunk and range after range took their places below the isolated elevations, until from base to top the deeply sculptured planes were revealed most minutely. If Hale lifted his head to stare at this fairy world, the real Idaho, it was to take advan- tage of the morning light and search the background of the basin. By the time he was within a mile of the river this miracle of a restored earth had passed its climax, and the mountains began to withdraw behind the veil of violet haze. Where all had been distinct and definite, although many miles distant, now all was blurred, even in the foreground. Hale’s- wide eyes, grayish-green like the sage, half- closed as the increasing light became a physical offense. By contrast the shadow of ledge or bluff was a thing of ebony, opaque and of substance. On many a cloudless morning Hale had witnessed this coming and vanishing of the mountains and vaguely knew the miracle somehow fitted into his scheme of life and satisfied a soul hunger, but on this particular day his mind was blind to all except his errand. As his tall form breasted the sage closer to the river he halted and sniffed at the dry air. Wood was burning near by, and he thrilled with the hope he was about to come upon the quarry whom he and his camp mate had been following for several days, but whose Conn Clooolkks (© inn