Adventure Magazine Cover — page 27: what you’re looking at

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

José Bobo, Cheerful Villain ally beamed—and had he preserved the tail of his anthropophagous ancestry, he would have wagged it. Purpee wagged for him, for Purpee likes guns—and deer-meat. Purpee resembles Taft more every day. At first he resembled Joe Cannon (barring whiskers), but now he waxes fuller, more majestic and judicial—with each meal. He is now too full for utterance—loaded with bread, venison and beans. ‘‘Purpee,’’ said I, “you are a fine dog, but you sometimes show an error of judgment. Never apply hot beans to your tail; blow on ’em first and then take them internally. Last night you played bum politics—you must change your system.”’ I am sure that Purpee under- stood me, for he almost smiled—somewhat tenderly, on account of the scald. We killed a buck and two fawns. Wehad tied Purpee in camp to keep him from bark- ing at deer. Purpee must have had an Irish ancestry. He chawed the rope and followed us. He showed his good sense and kept quiet, merely cocking his ears up in- quiringly at the deer. We let him lick up the blood and increase his girth with tke liver and lights. His return home was painful, for he ate grass and was heavy on his feet. After supper we took the two fawns to a spring where jaguar-tracks were thick, and tied them to trees. José thought that the jaguars would scent them if they came to the spring for a drink. He now had another horn, made of bark. He thought he could imitate the barking cough of a jaguar with this, far better than with his leather pouch. As soon as it grew dark each of us climbed a tree, nearafawn. José now tried the new horn and while it worked like a charm, the jaguars wouldn’t answer. About Io P. M. I got sick of my job and went home. No mine, no jaguar. . : Jan. o—At sun-up we went over to look at our bait. A jaguar had come in the night, pulled down my fawn and had eaten about half of it. José smiled and said, “We get him now. They never go far away from their ‘kill.’”’ Each of us again climbed a tree and José tried his horn once more. This time we got an immediate response, and within two minutes a great spotted cat bounded down the hill, voicing defiance for the truculent robber who dared molest his kill. When the huge cat stopped, less than fifty yards away, I was trembling with fear lest I might miss. Pressing the 30-30 783 firmly against a limb, I drew a quick bead and let her go. The jaguar dropped like a stone, gave a convulsive shudder, rolled over and was dead. I was overjoyed, yet pru- dent enough to let José poke him first—to make sure that he was out. The shot had hit him in the shoulder, shattered his heart and had lodged in the opposite hip-joint. We skinned him and started for camp. When we got there Bob and Little Annie started for home. It is remarkable how a scared mulecan run, with the hobbles on, over a rough country. It took José all day tohead them off and bring them back. After they were tied they still snorted and tried to break the ropes. Bob soon gave it up and began to feed, but Little Annie was not to be convinced—you see, she was a lady-mule. Purpee was also very uneasy and kept at my heels, growling and shivering at the smell of the big cat. We took the skin away and spread it on a big, flat rock. Purpee and Little Annie now soon grew quiet. The buck was fat and juicy, so we made jerky out of him. Jan. 1o—José’s other vein was better. It was a genuine quartz-vein and carried a little free-gold. I sampled it for assay. He is a much better man than I thought. We start back to-morrow. Little Annie mo- seyed into camp while we were gone and ate up all the flour. It’s the old story of Eve and the apple. Well, a man can’t starve on beans and deer-meat. We are going to camp at the lower oak ridge and try to get some turkeys for Don Natividad, who is very fond of gobblers. Jan. t1—To-day José killed two deer and five turkeys. I got only one deer and one turkey, so I was piqued at being out-hunted. After coming in with my game I left José skinning and making jerky, while I went out for another try. About a mile from camp I saw a commotion in the tall grass and was puzzled tomakeit gut. Icrept up close and climbed on a great rock. Peeping over, I saw a jaguar wallowing on the dead body ofa doe. He played with it just as a cat plays with a mouse. I waited until he was still a mo- ment, then put a Winchester bullet through his head. I was a proud man when I got back to camp with another beautiful skin. If cats have nine lives they don’t have them in the head and heart. I proved that con- clusively. Jan. 12—Going back downhill, over a trail that is already cut, beats coming up all © MICLOOOKS ©