Adventure Magazine Cover — page 109: what you’re looking at

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

108 looking, dingy-gray bulldog, who occupied the other half of the seat: “A feller can’t go no place no more with- out runnin’ into a bunch of some kind of | of a cops. She’s shore gittin’ to be a country.” At which remark Spot wiggled an abbre- viated tail by way of concurrence with his ~ master’s statement. So old Bill slowly moved down the road from Cheyenne to Denver—a road which had been the scene of more than one wild race between whisky-runners and members of fhe State Constabulary—races which more often than not ended in wrecked cars and killed and wounded men. For a quarter of a mile or more behind the shooter hung a cloud of dust, kicked up by the shuffling feet of the horse. And the en- tire outfit, horse, wagon, driver and dog, was heavily sprinkled with a layer of this same dust—grayish brown and as fine as talcum powder. Bill himself was a weather-beaten looking individual, with a scraggly, brass-colored mustache and a week’s growth of beard nearly the color of copper. Shrewd, steely- blue eyes, bright and restless, peered from beneath the battered old felt hat. The color of his clothing was indistinguishable be- neath the all-enveloping coating of dust. As he drew abreast of the two officers he stopped the horse and straightened up. “Hello, boys,” he greeted them. “‘How’s the booze business this mornin’?”’ The two officers arose from the running- board of their automobile, upon which they had been sitting, and approached Bill. “Hello, Bill,” responded one of them. “Where are you bound for this morning?”’ “Headin’ south,” briefly answered Bill, removing his hat and using it to beat some of the dust from his clothing. “What are you fellers doin’ here?” he con- tinued. ‘‘You ain’t expectin’ some little booze-runner to come along an’ give you a drink, are you?” He grinned at them. “You can’t never tell, Bill,’ answered the older of the two. “You know they do come along once in a while.” “T saw some feller in a flivver j’st a-burnin’ up the road, headin’ for Cheyenne,” said Bill, “as I was comin’ along back there a ways.” “Say, Morgan, we must have threw an awful scare into that old boy,’’ said one of the officers, and they both laughed. Adventure “How was that?’ asked Bill, leaning for- ward. “Me an’ Johnson was just gettin’ break- fast,’ stated Morgan, ‘‘an’ all at once some guy In a flivver came driftin’ down the road as fast as he could turn a wheel; we figured on stoppin’ him, but he saw us first, an’ he turned so quick that he nearly went clear over.”’ “Ves,” added Johnson, “an’ when I hopped into our old bus there an’ tried to start her, the bleedin’ motor back-fired, an’ - I guess, by the way that bird slid‘around the bend in the road, he Paoent we was shootin’ at him.” “He was still travelin’ on high when he passed me,” stated Bill. ‘‘He’d druv that there pore little flivver till its tongue was hangin’ out.” “Too bad,” said Morgan. “Veah, ain’t it,’ agreed Bill. ‘Well, boys, I guess I'd better be rollin’ on; I can’t afford to waste my val’able time talking to common cops.” And he gathered up the reins and picked up his whip, preparatory to setting his an- cient steed in motion. ‘When anybody comes along with a load like you carry,” stated Johnson, ‘‘we ain’t sorry to see him go.” | “You wouldn’t be int’rested in a sample 0’ my line of goods, I s’pose?’’ questioned Bill, and a wide grin showed a set of tobacco- stained teeth. “No, sir,” vehemently replied Morgan, “an’ besides we ain’t goin’ to be a bit lone- Some when we see you goin’ down the road.” “You fellers ain’t very p lite, but I never saw a cop that was,’ ’ Bill retorted. “‘J’st say the word, boys, an’ I’ll toss out a little ——” “Never mind, Bill,” was the hasty inter- ruption. “We ‘wouldn’t bother you that much.” The two hastily backed away. “Oh, all right,” sighed Bill, “ but you’ve hurt my feelin’s, an’ ’m goin’ to leave you all by yourselves.”’ | And Bill finally persuaded the horse to wake up and move on. “So long, boys,” he called over his shoul- der as he moved off. “IT guess this'll be about my last trip for a while.” “Good luck, Bill,” returned ‘Morgan; and Johnson added— ‘Be careful to go around the rocks, Bill.” (COPMIC OOOKS 5)