Adventure Magazine Cover — page 129: what you’re looking at

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

Pay Gravel supposed to have their headquarters some- where along the divide between Rapid and Spring Creeks.” ‘Joey is foolish at times,’ mumbled Pyrites. ‘When I’m looking for pay gravel I don’t see much else. If I meet a man riding a hoss and leading another I don’t hold him up and ask if he’s a hoss-thief. I just say, ‘Howdy. Nice day,’ and push along. I’ve seen two or three white men leading and driving hosses out here in the hills. I’ve seen them mighty near Hill City, where no one is supposed to be living. That’s a bang-up place for them to hide. But I never ask any questions. Climate out here ain’t healthy for curious questions. And I’ve had white men, well fixed with hossflesh, ask me as polite as pie to stop and eat a snack with them. They didn’t bother me and I didn’t bother them. So if you don’t get curious no one will bother us.” “Don’t worry that I'll bother any one if he lets me alone,” assured Dinsdale with a laugh. “I was only thinking of my nag.” “They won’t touch your nag. You can ride him right into their camp and they won’t touch him. Once when I lost a burro they offered to give me a hoss. Not to lie about it I used him for my pack till I was ready to go back to Deadwood. Then [I left him on the stage-road. They can be mighty accommodating, or they can be very nasty.” “Stealing horses is tame work beside some other kinds of work,’ mused Dins- dale. “Aye? Tame _ beside coaches, I’ll swear.” “Or robbing trains,’’ added Dinsdale. Pyrites, who was arranging his blankets to the best advantage, glanced up and anxiously requested: “TLet’s not have any more outlaw talk. We’re honest prospectors. We don’t want any truck with unlawful men.” “That’s right,” heartily agreed Dins- dale. ‘‘All I ask is not to be disturbed in my gold-hunting.”’ robbing — stage- f THE next morning they breathed a 249 white mist when they crawled from the tent. The foliage dripped water, the tent shed it as if it had been raining. Pyrites wrapped his cap and ball gun in oilskin before bringing it from the tent. Dinsdale was for an immediate de- parture for a higher level. Pyrites insisted 123 on breakfast and something of an examina- tion of the gulley they had been following. ‘This fog will be burned away before ten o’clock,”’ he said, ““T’ll get some dry wood and after we’ve had a bite ’'ll pan around here till the sun comes through. We’d better eat our dinner here, too. Save un- packing an extra time.” “Just as you say. You’re the boss,” surrendered Dinsdale. “But I’ve got the gold fever and after we’ve had coffee I’m going to take my pan and strike out up the ridge.” “Vou’ll get lost sure as apples,” remon- strated Pyrites. ‘‘No sense in overlooking what’s at your feet for what’s over the ridge. Take the dirt as it comes, then you won’t have bad dreams about passing by something that’s rich. You don’t know these hills, with their gorges and broken tops.” “T know hills much worse than these, Baked masses of dry cinders with no run- ning water to tell you the lay of the land. This country is simple. All the creeks beginning with the Elk, run into the South Fork of the Cheyenne. At least they start for the Cheyenne. Man can’t get lost. Don’t be afraid.” “Have it so. Hope you strike a bushel of nuggets. I'll stick along here. You’ll be back by noon?” ‘Have dinner ready and eat if I don’t show up. I may strike something big and forget I’m hungry.”’ Dinsdale’s indifference had vanished and he lost no time in eating breakfast. In fact, so great was his interest that he had not climbed very far up the ridge before he stopped and filled his pan and brought it back to the spring. “Hill diggings is slow work where you have to fetch to water,’’ condemned Pyrites, yet eying the pan with deep interest. “Only way to handle rich hill gravel is to hydrau- lic it. Find anything beyond a color: or two?” “Give it a look,” invited Dinsdale as he kneeled in the overflow of the spring and tilted his pan. Pyrites eagerly complied and beheld a residium that fairly glittered with specks of gold. “Pay gravel! Glorybe! You’ve hit it! That pan’s worth two dollars if it’s worth a cent.” ‘First blood for me!’’ proudly cried Dins- dale. COnmicloool< (C@