Adventure Magazine Cover — page 78: what you’re looking at

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

68 trail had been lost for twenty-four hours. He shifted the rifle from the hollow of his arm and scouted toward a fringe of cotton- wood that blocked his view of the river- bank. Sunflowers and rabbit-brush, bril- liant cousin of the goldenrod, broke the monotony of the grayish-green color scheme, but Hale saw only the thin smoke rising in a straight line above the trees. When he and his companion lost the trail they knew the man was making either for Idaho City on Moore’s Creek, or Boise City on the river of that name. He had struck south for Boise so that the fellow, if he had gone there, might not have too great a lead in escaping into Utah or California. é 3 A. Pioneer City .,e od SK DS 2 oy Ale sally uly, win,tacerville arco ce™ OP aga) HO G60 tages fy hy “S$ Idaho Ci Ferry Boise R y: WAL A ity e “Se : te eo. 4t 9.02 $8 Boonvi dt ieS2 oonville Rad © Ruby City eee ° Silver City Boise Basin, Idaho But with the smoke just ahead his doubts vanished and he smiled in grim complacency and covered the quarter of a circle to beyond the lower end of the growth. On finishing this stealthy maneuver he halted in chagrin; instead of discovering a camp-fire, he was looking at a double log-cabin, flanked by the lush green of cultivated land, where the fine yellowish-white dust deposit had been blessed by water and sown by man. “Vegetable farmer! Luck of a dog!” he growled, throwing his rifle over his shoulder and striding forward. The man he sought would not be living in a cabin and raising vegetables; rather, he would be lurking in some box cafion or riding desperately for the cover of some town before taking a southern trail. Before Hale could make the corner of the house he was confronted by a man of his own stature, but much older; for the long hair and beard were snow-white. Hale Adventure sensed the absence of hospitality the mo- ment he encountered the frosty eyes. The lean face of the trailer hardened, and coming to a halt he gruftly saluted— “How d’do.” The old man combed a hand through his beard and eyed him suspiciously, his quick gaze taking in each detail of the stranger’s dress and weapons. “Howdy,” he responded. ‘“You’re no miner.” The coldness of his faded blue eyes became less obvious. ‘‘You’re rigged out like a mountain-man of the old days, only you ain’t old enough to be one of them.” “Neither miner nor mountain-man. I’ve been working on the wagon-road up north.” “That would be Cap’n John Mullan’s road. It ain’t any great shakes I take it from what I hear.” “Folks are a heap disappointed when it comes to Winter travel,’ admitted Hale. “But that’s because of the snow and not Mullan.” “You can’t have had much doing in that line for two or three years,’’ mused the old man, holding his ground as if barring the way. “T’ve been hunting since work on the road finished.”’ “But you ain’t done any hunting for gold, you say. Queer guns for a hunter, them two big hand-guns.” “That depends on your game.” The old man found this curt retort con- taining something sinister. His tall form stiffened and he harshly demanded— “Be you an officer of the law?” Hale shook his head; then, as if reading the other’s suspicions, he quietly added— “And I’m not a law-breaker.”’ “Glad to hear the last. Glad to hear the first, too, as some of our law-officers ain’t much better’n them that they’re s’posed to chase.” ‘““A faint smile twisted Hale’s lips. After a pause he politely said: “Don’t let me keep you from your vict- uals. I only want to know if you’ve seen a man pass here with a black mare, marked with a white star on the right hind-quarter.”’ “Black? With a white star? Two days ago. Forded ten rods above the house. Didn’t call. Made south towards Boise City.” : ‘Thanks. I guessed it right. Stranger, that mare was stolen from me. I’m going after her if the chase takes me to Mexico.” cCoOmiclook S (© iin