Adventure, January 20, 1922 — page 87: what you’re looking at

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

Partners his bedroom door. ing into a huge Colt’s revolver, behind which was the tall form of the old man in the blue overalls. ‘Hold ’em up!” came the softly spoken command. Without hesitation the red-faced man stretched his hands toward the ceiling. The mildness had vanished from the baby- blue eyes. They were as cold as an arctic sea. ‘Turn around an’ put your hands be- hind you—an’ move slow!” was the next command. The next instant he felt his gun removed from his hip and his hands were drawn to- gether behind his back and fastened with a quick twist of a rope. The rope was drawn so tight that he almost roared aloud. ‘The next instant a wad of cloth was crowded into his mouth and fastened at the back of his neck. “Sit down on the floor!”’ said the old man. With some difficulty, because of his hands being bound behind him, the other obeyed. The old man looked about the room for a moment and then climbing to the table-top he moved a heavy lamp that hung from a heavy iron hook in the ceiling. He then jumped lightly to the floor and shoved the table aside, replacing it with a chair. “Get up in that chair—stand in it!’ he said to the man on the floor, helping him to his feet. He then slipped into the bedroom and returned with a long piece of rope. Forming a slip-noose in the end of the rope, he tossed it over the other man’s head and drew it snug about his throat. “So far, so good,” he smiled. “Now to get it over that hook in the ceiling.” ‘““Mub-glub-m-murg!” spluttered the man in the. chair through his crowded mouth. “Shut up!” snapped the old man, as he flung the slack rope toward the hook. “I’m the only one that does any talkin’ on this committee!’ He at last succeeded in throwing the rope He found himself: star- 85 over the hook. He drew it tight—so tight that the man in the chair lifted to his toes. He then made the loose end fast to the knob of a closed door. “W-ell,’ he drawled, his task finished, “T kinder think you’ll stay there till some one calls on you. You'd better not go to kickin’ ’round a lot, ’cause that chair might slip out from under you. It might be the cause of your accidental death!’ The man in the chair only glared. ““Guess [’ll have to be goin’ now,” the old man continued. ‘You see me an’ Old Slob likes to get an early start when we take the old Indian trail. We only needs ’bout an hour to make -us safe. We knows the Martin Cafion country like that book you was tellin’ about.” As he said this he turned to the bedroom and gave a low whistle. There was a soft thumping sound and Old Slob, his feet wrapped in folds of horse-blankets, entered the room. “T kinder had to muss up your bed a little,’’ said the old man as he led the horse toward the door leading to the back stair- way. “Old Slob gets restless sometimes an’ stamps his feet—so I gave him your mat- tress to stand on.” AT THE head of.the stairs the old man paused and scowled. “Old Slob, here’s where you got to uphold your great reputation,” he grunted. ‘Goin’ down is a heap different from comin’ up!” The horse looked at the stairs with calm indifference while the old man listened for any sound from below. “Well, I reckon she’s clear,’’ he whispered to the horse. “I’ve seen you make worse places than this ’fore now. If you have to set down an’ slide, do it softly—an’ not on me!”’ Bracing the horse as much as possible with his shoulder he urged him forward. After much soft swearing and some sliding and scrambling they reached the bottom. oe Go NOOK > a (C@