Adventure Magazine Cover — page 80: what you’re looking at

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

7O granddaddy I had you covered.” She jerked her head toward a muzzle-loading rifle leaning against the wall by the window. ‘““My goodness! but that’s a mighty fine looking rifle!’ she exclaimed as she studied the Henry. “Regular humdinger,’ he awkwardly assured. ‘See how she works.” He manip- ulated the mechanism’ for her edification. “Land sakes!’ she cried. “It’s worth a dozen of those old muzzle-loaders. I tried to get granddaddy to buy me a Spencer.” “Too heavy caliber for a gal,’”? mumbled Old Idaho. ‘Has to be cocked by hand. Don’t have enough power. Sometime I'll git you a Sharps.” “That’s a good buffalo gun,” said Hale. “It shoots well. But it’s a breech-loader, and if the action gits loose you'll git a burst of flame in your face from the powder-gas every time you fire it. When I git through with my business on Boise River I'll see if I can’t pick you up a Henry, miss.” “Oh, will you?” she cried, clapping her hands like a child when promised a toy. “Granddaddy will pay you what you pay, and something besides for your trouble.” “T didn’t mean it that way, miss,” sheep- ishly explained Hale. “I wanted to fetch it as a present.” “No you won't,” broke in Old Idaho. “Tye planned to buy her one in Idaho City. Then sternly to the girl, “No pxesents from strangers, Harry. That’s settled.” “It doesn’t matter so long as you git what you want,” said Hale. He unfastened his belt and shoulder-strap and deposited his weapons and blanket inacorner. ‘‘You like guns?” “It’s guns, or nothing,’ she moodily replied. ‘And I thought you must be one of Helm’s gang when I saw you with the hand guns and rifle.” “Man I’m trailing may be one of the gang. Stole my mare. How old are you?” He spoke in jerks as he was unaccustomed to talking to young women. “Twenty.” “You don’t look it.” Her face expressed displeasure. He quickly added, “It’s the rig you're wearing. You'd look bigger in petticoats.” “My goodness! Is that so?” she cried in mock amazement. ‘Well, if size shows age you must be older than the Salmon River Mountains.” “Harry, behave yourself,’ commanded Adventure Old Idaho. ‘‘Shoshoni Hale can make the Injuns fetch and carry for him like so many tame dogs. He’s probably got some of ’em waiting for him near here.” ‘“‘Nonsense,”” growled Hale, feeling con- fused. ‘““That is, I have a friend, a Shoshoni, camping four or five miles north of here, wait- ing for me to come back after I git my mare.” “Didn’t I say so?” triumphed the old man. “So that’s who you are? Shoshoni Hale,” purred the girl, and studying him with lively interest. ‘You must have lots of influence over them.” “T’ve got a few friends among ’em,” he mumbled. ‘Lots of white men have found Indians make true-blue friends. But I ain’t much account when it comes to talking with a young woman, miss. I reckon [ll be going, or they’ll have that mare way down in Chico.” “Get down to the table and I'll set on the breakfast,”’ she briskly commanded. Hale slid meekly onto a stool and found that when seated his head was level with hers. This added to his confusion. ‘So they stole your mare,” rattled on the girl,. pausing half-way between the table and the cook-room. ‘Well, seeing that you are you, perhaps they won’t eat you up. Why didn’t you fetch along your Indian to help get the mare back?” “Youre mistook, miss,” timidly ex- plained Hale. ‘That Indian talk is mostly foolishness. I can’t bring Black Cloud into it. White men don’t think much of killing an Indian. Up in the mountains it would be different. I let him pick up the trail, but once I see it was making for a town I had him stay behind. If I could jump the critter outside of the town I wouldn’t ask for any help except from my rifle.” “Tf I had a rifle like that I'd ride through Idaho City and nary a man would make eyes at me—less I wished him to.” With this pert remark she disappeared. Old Idaho took the head of the table and furtively studied the bowed head of his guest. The face, he decided, was too long to be attractive. The eyes had a trick of remaining half closed, and their color reminded him of the grayish-green sage. The girl returned with a platter heaped with meat and dumplings, and a pot of coffee. Hale lifted his head and eyed the dumplings wolfishly. It had been several months since he had eaten bread, the nearest approach to it being hardtack. COMmicaoo® S ©