Adventure Magazine Cover — page 97: what you’re looking at

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

Lost Diggings there the odds won’t be so great. Much obliged to you. So long.” Riply watched him canter down the street and into the Idaho City stage road. Under his breath he apostrophized the re- ceding figure: “T hope you won’t ever wear our trade- mark. Too pretty a built man to hang three crosses on. But there’s something queer about you. Something queer be- sides all the yarns they tell. Better get north of the Clearwater and stay there.” CHAPTER III UNDESIRED GOLD ig eee commenced the thirty-five mile ride to Idaho City at an easy pace, as he planned to camp for the night and did not desire to ride after dark. Pinaquana was eager to eat up the road in one long — mad gallop, and tossed her head in saucy disapproval as the master held her down to a moderate gait. The west wind had an hour to blow before sunset terminated its labors. He proposed to ride into the twilight and then camp and make sure the mare had suffered no hurt during her capture and imprisonment As he passed the Umatilla stage-coach bound for Placerville he noticed the dust smothered passengers and driver eyed him sharply. Each passenger had paid a hun- dred dollars for the privilege of taking a trip which would call for hearty congratu- lations if it ended without a hold-up. Hale was surprized at the interest he created, for the heat of the day and the discomforts of the journey must have wearied the travelers exceedingly. He was still wondering at the unexpected show of interest when he overtook a long wagon-train. This was hauled by horses and mules now that Summer was well ad- vanced and oxen, with their noses close to the alkaline dust, were supposed to sicken and die. Again he was conscious of being keenly scrutinized. And, as with the stage passengers, he thought he read hostility in the men’s gaze. He met stage-coaches _ and wagons bound for Oregon, Owyhee and California, all traveling by the way of Boise City, and at every encounter found himself the target for all eyes. Also he caught fragments of comments which puzzled him. He learned the reason for this attitude when he met a small pack- train, guarded by a dozen heavily armed men. This escort proclaimed that a cargo of gold was being taken out. He swung out to one side of the road and several of the guards covered him with their rifles, and the leader warned— “Draw off, or we fire!”’ Hale held up his empty hands and sent the mare swerving farther to the side, and cheerily called out— “‘T’m honest.” “Few honest men pack two heavy belt- guns round here besides toting a rifle,” bawled the train boss. ‘‘You look too much like you might be running with Jem Helm’s gang to suit us.”’ Hale’s rifle was under his leg. To avoid unnecessary suspicion he shifted his heavy revolvers inside his shirt. From then on there was much less hostility shown by those he passed. But if the wayfarers had been interested in him he was chiefly con- cerned with the road behind him. The sun dropped below the Blue Mountains. The wind diminished in violence, and in the east appeared the twilight arch, the earth’s shadow thrown into relief on the dust particles in the sky heights. It was a magnificient piece of celestial engineering and spanned the heavens and grew in height as one looked. Its upper edge was clear cut at first, but soon faded as it rose higher above the horizon. Hale ignored the phenomenon as his one concern was to learn if any horsemen were following him from Boise City. This was the reason for his breaking the journey by camping; he would not ride when he could not see his back trail. So intent was he on watching the road behind he did not detect the trap laid for him in the junipers ahead. His first intimation of danger was the hoarse voice calling out— “Put up your hands!” The command was followed by the clicking of gun-locks. With his rifle inaccessible and his revolv- ers tucked inside his shirt he hesitated none in obeying the command. As the mare came to a halt a masked man emerged from the junipers. Two .36 caliber Colt revolvers were in his belt. “Hop down and keep quiet. Half a dozen guns are covering you,” said the masked man. Hale obeyed. The man walked behind him and passed a hand around him and 87 COIN Clooolkks (© inn