Adventure Magazine Cover — page 110: what you’re looking at

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

q : es } SD ae wey See TT a : ye yy! AX * “Adios, hombres,” returned Bill. “Get up, you ol hay-burner,” he remarked to the horse, with a fleck of his whip, and the horse, which had almost stopped again, once more got under way with a great churning up of dust. -“Fe’s some character, ain’t he?” said Morgan, watching Bill’s progress down the road. “He sure is, and I guess he makes money shootin’ wells too,” said Johnson thought- fully, “but I wouldn’t have that man’s job for a dollar a minute.” “You an’ me both,” agreed Morgan. “That’s one outdoor sport that ain’t right healthy.” Thus they dismissed Bill from their thoughts, and for the next half-hour were busy about their car, making some minor adjustments and repairs—so busy in fact that only when Morgan happened to straighten up for a moment and idfy look around did he notice the big black touring- car which had crept down the road toward them and was now barely a hundred feet away. THE two men in the car, seeing they were observed and noting the officers’ automobile by the road- side, immediately speeded up, and the car shot by in a perfect storm of dust and smoke. ~ Instantly both officers jumped into their car, but there was a short delay before their motor responded to Johnson’s excited ef- forts to start it, and they turned into the road and gave chase to the fleeing car. Straight down the road, unmindful of sand, ruts, bumps or anything save the fleeing automobile, Johnson drove at top speed. Suddenly one of the figures in the car ahead turned and an instant later Mor- gan heard a ripping sound behind him. _ Looking back to ascertain the cause, he saw a long, irregular gash in the upholstering of the tonneau. An instant later he ducked _ as the vicious whine of another bullet could be heard above the roar of the motor. “They must have the goods,” he re- marked to Johnson, who was driving “ they wouldn’t be trying to shoot us up.” . “Looks that way to me,” was the reply of Johnson, giving the wheel a twist as the car hit a bit of sandy road and skidded dangerously. High Explosives 109 “Better shoot ’em up a little, Morgan, an’ see what they think of it.” : » Morgan promptly brought his gun to bear and the automatic popped like a small machine gun, without, however, any effect upon the car ahead, or its occupants, except an increase in its speed. “Tf we had a real car instead of this old bus,” said Johnson, ‘“‘we might be able to do something to these booze-pedlers besides throw a scare into ’em.”’ “It would help a lot. This old car couldn’t even make it interesting for a turtle.” Morgan took another shot at the fugitives in order to relieve his ruffled feelings. So the two cars roared madly on, the black touring-car gradually drawing away from the officers. Suddenly the car ahead raced around a curve in the road, and was out of sight for a few seconds. When the officers reached a spot where the fleeing car was again visible they saw far ahead a little dust cloud in the road... “There’s Bill,” they both eiclained at the same instant. “T hope those fellows don’t hit him,” said Johnson. “There'll be. three new faces in heaven if they do,” answered Morgan. “I’m afraid, though, that heaven’d be too quiet for Bill.” “Anyhow, if that car hits Bill somebody’s goin’ to get an awful surprize.”’ Both officers, with eyes fixed on the two conveyances, awaited the collision which seemed inevitable. A few seconds later, when it was apparent that the fleeing automobile had overtaken the shooter, there was a swirl of dust which completely hid both the shooter’s rig and the touring-car. “He hit ’im!”’ exclaimed Johnson tensely under his breath. | The knuckles of Morgan’s hands showed white, as he instinctively clenched his hands, awaiting the shock of the expected explosion. ; None came, however, and as they cau- tiously approached the two now stationary vehicles they saw, through the dust which was rapidly drifting to windward under the influence of a slight breeze, old Bill’s rickety wagon standing at an acute angle in the ditch at the side of the road and threatening to tip over at any moment. Its red flag was idly flapping in the breeze CONnnicloooKkSsce@