Adventure Magazine Cover — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

14 here yet because he stopped to pick up some stock.” “Well,” said Brick slowly, ‘ ‘T reckon we'll drift along, ma’am. Just stopped to say howdy.” Jean shook hands with them and stood in- the doorway, waving a farewell as they rode away. Kc] NONE of the three men spoke for a ‘3 while, and then Harp remarked— “She ought to have a new stove.” Neither of the others disputed his asser- tion. Silent spurred up beside Brick. “Lemme look at that letter again, Brick.” He read it through and handed it back to Brick. “Kinda fits,’ he muttered. “J and O. Watcha know about that, Brick?” “All we’ve gotta do—” began Harp, but Brick whirled in his saddle. “To what?” he snapped. *‘We-e-ll, whatcha think, Brick?” *“‘Lemme think, will yuh?” “Tet me think,” grinned Silent. ‘Betcha forty dollars, Harp, that he’s thinkin’ right around one thing—she sure can sing.’ “Like an angel,” said Harp seriously. “Honest to grandma, I ain’t never heard no song like *that in my life. Wonder if she’d sing if a feller asked her?” “What caliber was that Winchester - carbine hangin’ on the wall?” asked Brick. “Forty-five-seventy,” said Harp. “I gotta good look at it. Model 1886, open sights.” “Sure?” « “You're danged right I’m sure, but that don’t spell nothin’, Brick. T His here country is full of .45- -70'S, = “T’m glad it was a .45-70.” Silent turned in his saddle and stared at Brick. “Vuh are, are yuh?’ he exploded. “Well, now lemme tell yuh somethin’, cowboy; don’t yuh try to hang deadwood on that lady.” “A thousand dollars is a lot of money,” mused Brick. “T ain’t so danged miserly as all that,” grunted Harp. “Forty a month and feed ain’t so much, but yuh can live on it.” “That would mean three hundred and thirty-three dollars apiece,’ stated Brick seriously. “Take a long time to save up that much, if jyuh don’t drink much and don’t gamble.” Adventure “What's time?” enorted Silent. “That ain’t nothin’; is it, Harp?” | “Not in my life, Silent. Whatcha laughin’ at, Brick?” ‘Thinkin’ what a lot of danged fools the lady has made of us three.”’ They rode into Marlin and left their horses at the tie-rack near the sheriff’s office. A group of men were standing in front of the general store—-a group that seemed strangely interested in the three cowboys. Bunty Blair was one of the group, and now he left it and came down toward his office to meet the three. Bunty stopped as if undecided. Then he pointed toward the door of his office and said— ‘‘Let’s go inside and have a little talk.” “What’s the main idea?” asked Brick wonderingly, glancing from Bunty to the crowd in front of the store. “Come inside and [ll tell yuh—all three of yuh.” The three cowboys glanced at each other and then followed Bunty into the office. He shut the door and faced them. “Limpy Squires was murdered.” Brick squinted at Bunty. “Whenre”’ “The day of the hold-up. Shot in the back.” The cowboys exchanged glances. Limpy had never been popular with them, but who would shoot the inoffensive old crippled stage-driver? Limpy had an acrid tongue, but no one ever took exceptions to his talk— rather they were amused at his flow of pro- fanity. Bunty straightened some papers on his desk and continued: “He left here with you fellers. ‘Topaz’ Tyler was coming here from Silverton when he found him. Limpy had been dead all this time, lyin’ just off the road near the forks.‘ Topaz brought the word back, and we went out after him. We found both horses, but the pack had come loose.” Brick listened grimly to Bunty’s state- ment; and then— “Who do yuh reckon shot him, Bunty?” The sheriff did not reply—did not meet Brick’s intense gaze, but fumbled with the papers on his desk. “Bringin’ us in here thisaway,” muttered Silent, “’pears like yuh was tryin’ to keep it a secret.” “You fellers rode out of town with COMIEOOOKSsEON