Adventure Magazine Cover — page 108: what you’re looking at

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

102 from Dinsdale as if suddenly afraid of him; but he repeated: “Just tell them it isn’t so. Now I must make a picture of ‘Horseshoe’ Webb over at the monte table. You probably know that he’s from Texas.”’ A pause and a sharp glance at Dinsdale’s expressionless face. ‘““He’s very ugly or very good-natured in his drinks. Just now he’s good-natured.” With a hasty duck of his head, which the big owl seemed to imitate, he sidled his way to the monte table to where Horseshoe Webb was twisting his huge black mus- taches and smiling amiably. Webb wore a gaily embroidered buckskin coat and car- ried an ivory-handled revolver at the front of his belt. From below the skirts of the coat protruded the decorated sheath of a long knife. Dinsdale shifted his position so that he might study Webb more closely. Dead- wood gossips could have told him that the man had been a bull-whacker up to the Summer of Seventy-five, when he eschewed labor, even placer mining, and took to lounging about the various gaming places in Custer City, and later made Deadwood City his headquarters. He was large and gaunt of frame, and yet was very vain. He covered his uncouth figure with the softest of buckskins and received his name from a horseshoe of brilliants worn in his neck scarf. And he was inordinately proud of his long black mustache. Dinsdale surveyed him for a minute and would have departed had not a flap at the rear been raised to admit a man. Before the canvas fell back in place Dinsdale glimpsed a door, and for the first time real- ized there was a wooden annex to the tent. Second glance told him the newcomer was Iron Pyrites, the peripatetic prospector. Pyrites was gazing absent-mindedly at the busy scene and did not sense Dinsdale’s approach until the latter’s hand touched his shoulder. He started nervously, but it was several seconds after he faced about before the dull eves lighted with recogni- tion. “Back in town to outfit forthe trip, eh?” greeted Dinsdale. ‘‘Joey’s friend!”’ exclaimed Pyrites, thrust- ing out a hand. ‘“Joey’s shooting friend! Yes, siree! The big trip is what’s coming next. One big strike and I’m going back Adventure East. Joey’s all right. and partner, but he don’t have enough sade, not enough faith. Just been talking to him. He shows no more interest than if I was talking about buying and selling eggs. Of course he’ll grub-stake me. He thinks it fetches him good luck in this business. But he ain’t got any heart for it. No _git-up-and-hurrah-boys in him. ‘Why, man, I know several big prospects that oughter make him give this outfit away and hoot for joy; and he don’t give a hang. There’s gold back near where I met you fellows on the road. Heaps of it! No five and ten cents to a pan, but dollars to a pan! Sounds big? Itis big. Then there’s silver indications near Bear Butte, right under our noses. ‘There’s oceans of silver there. I know it. Dve been through the Owyhee district in Idaho, and it ain’t any richer. Why, man alive! Just me and my burro have traced out five miles of silver ledge. Hit on it by. accident. Hunting gold and found a nugget that was almost pure silver. Washed down from some vein up in the hills. “That was enough for old Iron Pyrites. Me and that burro got busy. He’s just as keen for it as I be, and he’d rather go after silver then gold. We stayed out till we nearly starved. Even then the little cuss didn’t want to come in. When I’ve devel- oped the tunnels and drifts [ll take out ore that’ll run two hundred ounces to the ton! Two hundred dollars to the ton! A small mill, at the least, will reduce twenty- five tons a day. Five thousand dollars! And Joey’d rather keep at his trifling busi- ness! A small custom-smelter will turn out—well, we’ll say a thousand-ounce brick a day. Good Lord! And I can’t git Joey haired up about it!” “Then you'll go after silver next?’ prompted Dinsdale. Pyrites scratched his nose and wrinkled his brows. “Y’m a gold miner,” he finally decided. “The burro’s all for silver. Silver’s good. I always like to feel I’ve got a good silver ledge back of me for a rainy day. Mebbe I'll take one more whack at the gold before getting that silver. It’s safe. No one else will find it.” ‘And Injuns don’t trouble you?” “T’m not partial to them. But one man, if he’s careful, don’t run much risk in prospecting. Especially if he knows the COMMICLOOokKs He’s my friend (C@