Adventure Magazine Cover — page 149: what you’re looking at

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

Ane. co OL “Get up now, and do as I say. It’s got to be done—done now. Tomorrow will be too late.”’ Shorty did as he was told. Bull climbed on to the bed and leaned the ax beside it. At his directions Shorty placed a clean strip of canvas beneath him, fetched a roll of bandages from a chest in a corner and helped fasten a rawhide band about the injured leg which they twisted tight with a short stick. ‘“‘Now bring the razor. Cut in there and there an But Shorty’s nerve was gone. His hands were trembling and beyond control. Moose Bill took the razor from him and himself cut into the blackened flesh. Shorty sank in a moaning heap on the floor. When the bone was exposed Bill again spoke, between clenched teeth— “Get the saw.”’ Shorty brought the saw, but again fell in a heap on the floor— “T can’t! I can’t!’ he moaned. “For God’s sake, man, saw! You’re killing me!” Shorty only groaned. Bill swung the big ax above his head. “Saw, you, saw! two!” Fear of death alone gave Shorty nerve and strength to draw the blade back and forth until the blackened foot came free. Eight days later an Indian from the T’ll split you in des bes © & me ee meome wwe © a a greece . DP Poreme em oe i yomee sates Moose Bill I4I Cobuck Village, stringing a trap-line down the Novak, found them there and hauled them down to Beaver. Bull was well on the road to recovery. hb “AND the doctor pronounced it a wy, plumb good amputation,” old Jim finished. “Just a little trimming here and there was all the additional carving necessary. Shorty went on to Fairbanks with the first outgoing mail-team, and Bill has never seen him since.”’ “Never seen or heard from him since!’’ I mused sarcastically. ‘Well, I guess that’s about the usual run of human appreciation. Poor old Bill! How the deuce does he make a living now?” “Oh, I never said he hadn’t heard from the runt,” Old Jim corrected me. ‘And Bill don’t have to work. He owns the new trading-post up yonder, and two more like it on the Porcupine. He’s mighty well heeled. ‘You see, about three months after Shorty left, Bill got a letter from him from Frisco—a mushy sort of thing thanking Bill for what he’d done—didn’t amount to anything—but pinned to it was a check signed “Thomas Berry.’ “That saphead Shorty person happened to be the son of the new owner of the Big Creek mines. The check was to the amount of thirty thousand dollars. Shucks! Id cash in one of my old pegs for half of that.” (@ (Cc DOOKS (©