Adventure Magazine Cover — page 20: what you’re looking at

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

[2 “Nothing, except to be my father.” This time the cup of coffee missed Skee- ter’s knees and fell hissing into the fire. “For ’s sake,” gasped Skeeter wide- eyed, and then quickly recovered and added, ‘“That’s the second cup I’ve spilled. ‘Paw-Paw’ Jim says that coffee’s bad for nerves.” He raised the cup from the coals and wiped it on his sleeve. Dr. Weston rubbed his left shoulder and spoke to the girl. ‘“T am feeling much better, my dear. I seemed dazed for a while, but that has left me. You were speaking of your father, were you not I pray we shall find him for you. It is luck for us that the Good Samari- tan came along, otherwise I am afraid we would suffer in our ignorance.”’ “Good Samaritane”’ said Skeeter Bill. ‘““Meanin’ what?” “You are a Samaritan, my friend,” said the old man. “Me?” Skeeter looked blankly at him, “T’ve been called a lot of names, old pard- ner, but that’s plumb fresh. What does she mean?” “You have never heard the story of the Good Samaritan, my son?”’ “Never heard of none,”’ admitted Skeeter. The old minister quoted the entire para- ble, while Skeeter sat on his heels beside the fire, listening. At the conclusion of the tale he said: “What do yuh reckon that there Samari- {an feller was doin’ along that trail? Was he—uh—say, what do vuh reckon would ‘a’ happened if that wounded hombre had been all right when he met him. Yuh got to remember that this feller didn’t have nothin’ left for this here Samaritan to steal; so, mebbe—I dunno.” “T do not understand your question,”’ said the minister. “Tha’s all right,” grinned Skeeter. “TI do.” Skeeter got to his feet and procured a pick and a shovel from one of the wagons. “Got to dig quite a hole, I reckon,” he stated. ‘I ain’t never buried ’em in bunches before.” The girl shuddered. It was a ghastly business. The old minister protested. It was wrong to do this. There should be the usual formalities to be observed, notifica- tion of the relatives, death certificates. Skeeter listened to their combined views on the subject. 2 Adventure “Yuh never took the buzzards into your figurin’. Mebbe that’s the way they handles things like this back in your country, but you're here—not there, folks. Kinda wish we had a sky-pilot, though. Don’t seem right to be plantin’ folks without a preacher -—not a lot of folks to oncet.” “T am a minister,’ said Dr. Weston sim- ply. te ”” grunted Skeeter Bill, “I thought vou was a medicine-man. She called yuh doctor, yuh know. ’Pears to me that them snake-hunters all died at the right place. Ain’t often that a horse-thief dies handy toa preacher. I’ll do the diggin’ and you do the preachin’, and we'll give ’em a proper start. I'll kinda look around and see how many I can collect, while you figures out what yuh can say about ’em. I dunno your outfit, ex- cept Williams. He’s worth sayin’ a few words about, but if you can say anythin’ good about Mears or Brent it’s ’cause yuh never knowed ’em.”’ SKEETER BILL toiled as he never toiled before. It was a man-sized 8 job and Skeeter Bill was no horny- handed toiler, but the work must be done. Mary Leeds surprized him by coming to the open grave and standing with bowed head, while the old minister read the burial service. It was a queer funeral service. The large open grave, with its row of bodies; the old white-haired minister, bowed over his book, while Mary Leeds knelt on the sands near him. Across the grave from them stood Skeeter Bill, a tall, gaunt figure, lean- ing on a shovel-handle. A tall Dancin’ Jasper, shaped like a leaning cross, cast its long shadow across the pile of sand, while others seemed to dance a requiem to the souls of desert men. Mary Leeds and the old minister turned ‘away toward the wagons, while Skeeter Bill filled in the grave, whistling softly through his teeth. Then he tossed the shovel aside and sat down to smoke and think of Tug Leeds’ daughter. It was almost unthink- able, that this girl could be the daughter of Tug Leeds, outlaw leader, murderer. Skee- ter knew that Tug Leeds was a man with- out any morals. He handled only crooked gamblers to run his games, and his honka- tonk girls were of the most vicious breeds. No, there was no redeeming features about the man. And this was his daughter. COMmicbsoo® S ©