Adventure, January 20, 1922 — page 148: what you’re looking at

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

146 disappeared before Frenchy could locate him. “We'll give the horses an hour on the grass and then tie ’em up,” stated Blaze. “Yuh never can tell what kind of a hornet this Mora is and we might need a horse under us real quick.” “Ba gosh, I’m prepare for de night!” Frenchy’s beard and mustache seemed to fuzz out like the whiskers on an angry bob- cat. He patted his pistol butt. “Y’m hard man for mak’ move, but jus’ as you say, Blaze. Mebbe she’s de good idea for have de horse handy, for de reason dat mebbe we have to chase dis Black Mora, eh?” Blaze laughed, but Frenchy was serious. In anything except a fight the little French- man had the heart of a child, but the pros- pect of trouble seemed to add inches to his height and his black eyes became bead-like in their intensity. They cooked and ate their supper and then Blaze caught the horses, tying them near camp. Blaze had been keeping a close watch across the creek, expecting trouble to come from that direction, if at all. Sud- denly he heard Frenchy grunt softly. Two men had ridden in from the rear, making no sound on the soft trail, and were almost to the fire before Frenchy saw them. One was a tall, swarthy, black-mustached person, with an arrogant expression. The other was a trifle smaller, with mouse- colored hair, one empty eye-socket and a badly scarred face. Both men carried rifles and wore pistols. Blaze looked them over carefully. The tall man, after staring hard at Blaze, pointed at the sign, his long, bony forefinger quiver- ing as he seemed to put his soul into the gesture. “You see that sign?” he grunted. “Still havin’ my sight,’’ nodded Blaze. The man seemed shocked to think that Blaze had seen it and still disregarded its warning. His hand dropped to his side and he frowned at Blaze. Frenchy was stand- ing near the other rider, his legs braced far apart, his unlighted pipe between his lips. “This here land belongs to Mora,”’ stated the tall man. “Who is Mora?” asked Blaze easily. “Black Mora?* You don’t know?” “Nigger?” asked. Frenchy. The man turned.his head and shot a with- Adventure ering glance at Frenchy, but Frenchy’s glare was just as deadly and the man turned back to Blaze. “You git off this land! Mora don’t allow nobody here. I'll give you—” he glanced around at the meager outfit and turned back to Blaze—‘‘T’ll give yuh half- hour to git off this ranch.” Blaze rubbed his chin and considered the order. “You work for Black Mora?”’ he asked. “T shore do.” ‘Know him well enough to take a message to him?” “T shore do.” “Then tell him that Blaze Carlin told him to go to gs ““Mak’ de message from Frenchy Ditteau, oo,’ added Frenchy. ‘‘Mak’ her read de same.” : The tall man’s eyes narrowed for an instant and his shoulder seemed to hunch. Blaze Carlin’s hand crooked at the wrist and his Colt .44 split the stillness of the creek bottom. The tall man’s arm swung forward, seemed to crumple at the elbow and his pistol fell to the ground. At the first motion of the draw, Frenchy had sprung forward and upward, grasping the other man by the belt and yanking him off his horse. The man drew a gun as Frenchy tore him loose from the saddle, but the gun went spinning into the bushes. Blaze paid no attention to Frenchy and the other man. The tall man’s rifle slid to the ground, and his frightened horse backed until its rump struck a tree, which made it jerk forward, almost unseating its rider, whose arm seemed to occupy all his atten- tion. Frenchy had flung his man to the ground and pinned his arms. “Ba gosh, I’m hope for de good fight, but I’m mak’ mistake,” grunted Frenchy. “You'll have a chance to use your left arm for a while,” stated Blaze, but the tall man did not reply. Frenchy let his man get up, but kept a hand twisted in his collar. “You heard the message we sent to Black Mora, didn’t yuh?” asked Blaze. maybe you’re tamed enough to carry it to him ) “You goin’ to turn dem loose?” asked Frenchy. “Ba gosh, you got sof’ heart. Whoa!”’ : Frenchy yanked his man backward and proceeded to administer the toe of his boot COmiclboooks “Now, . (C@