Adventure Magazine Cover — page 135: what you’re looking at

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

Impersonating Muriel head Mountain. He wasn’t impressive— not so you’d notice it; but the Uinta was half a mile away, an’ I guess it looked all right to them. Then we slipped into the brush an’ ran like coyotes over to the county road; an’ as we reached it Charlie howled in joy. “Look, you bandy-legged old cow- puncher! There’s Luck an’ Salvation—the finest team ever!”’ Plumb sure! Close to us was a wagon with a smart looking team an’ a young fel- low drivin’. Charlie sprang into the road. “T’ve got to ride!” he yelled. “Got to! It’s life or death! Ill pay you well, my boy!” But the boy was too plumb overcome with paralysis an’ amazement at Charlie’s hat an’ skirts to buck, even if he’d wanted to, an’ Charlie sprang on to the seat an’ called back to me: ‘Work the little boat back to Gus as soon as you can, Buck. He can use it to go after gasoline. He'll have lots of time. I’ll lead these fellows over to Mill Gulch.” An’ as Mill Gulch was fourteen miles up the road, I knew that his “plenty of time” was plumb correct an’ effective. The team jumped into their collars just as the rattle of the Uinta stopped down at the place where we had landed. I stayed up at the road, so as to enjoy what was coming, an’ it came. Puffin’ an’ blowin’ through the brush came a man as round as that steer of Wes. Calner’s, that took the prize at Omaha last year; an’ with him was a young fellow in a uniform same as mag- nates of finance decorate their buzz-wagon drivers with. ‘Are you the man who brought that row- boat over?”’ gasped Langford; an’ I al- lowed that I was. ‘““Where’s the young lady you brought?”’ he snapped again, glaring like a locoed cow. I pointed down the road. ‘“She’s takin’ a ride on that wagon,” I murmured sweetly. “‘T surmise she’s bound for Mill Gulch.” He glared down the road, an’ I glared, too, an’ I felt sure admireful of Charlie. He was a light-weight an’ looked real natural an’ sweet, snuggling close to the driver, as if he was afraid he might fall off; an’ his head was tipped on one side, girlish an’ captivatin’, so what with the hat an’ the red sweater, the sleek Mr. Langford would plumb sure have sworn on a carload of Bibles that his daughter was headed for Mill Gulch. 891 Anyway, he only wanted one look; then he turned to the shaffer an’ yelled: “Go over to that house an’ hire a team! Pay anything they ask! Buy it if you have to— but get it!” I waited to see if the overfed gent was pinin’ for any more conversation with me, but he was on a rock, tryin’ to shut off his carburetter, or whatever it was that made him puff like his motor-boat, so I meandered back to the river-bank. Then I sat down an’ rolled a cigarette an’ cogitated about rowing that boat back to Gus. It wasn’t tempting—not so you’d notice it; an’ I’d rather have bunched cows for twenty-four hours without a meal than started on that job. Then I looked at the Uinta. She was roped an’ tied to a big cotton- wood, an’ I meandered over to her. She was some like Charlie’s motor-boat that we’d been riding in the day before, only much bigger. I saw the same sort of wheel that spun around an’ made such a rattle, an’ there was the same steering-affair that they use on buzz-wagons, an’ I concluded, plumb conscientious, that I’d rather work her back to Gus than have any more horse- play with that row-boat. . IT UNROPED her, shoved her front es end out from the bank, an’ stepped in. I took hold of the wheel as I’d seen Charlie do it, an’ gave it a whirl, an’ there was gun-play at once, as good an’ plenty as the ole Flying U outfit cele- bratin’ Pioneer Day in Cheyenne. She jumped out so quick that I took a seat real prompt, without gettin’ peevish where it was. But I clawed at the steering-wheel an’ got her straightened out just as she was startin’ to follow the girl up through the peach orchard to ole Hinckley’s. She was sure tender-bitted, an’ real handy on the lines. I looked back at the bank an’ saw the prize Langford an’ his shaffer waving arms, free an’ impulsive. They’d stampeded down when they heard the rattle of their motor an’ were probably making remarks, but the noise cut it all out; so I pointed to the row-boat an’ waved my hand, friendly. The next minute I was around the point an’ in a minute more I was close by the I’ayeite. Gus was standin’ up staring. Then it came to me, real embarrassin’, that if the Uinta was a cinch to manage cCoOmicloooks (©