Adventure Magazine Cover — page 78: what you’re looking at

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

72 suspicious, nervous. Man looked askance at man as they passed on the highroads, felt their shoulder blades twitch when back was turned to back. Into the court-house of Grimsby County stalked Jim McBryde. The sheriff’s door was open. That man, a veritable sliver of bronzed sinew, sat dozing in his chair, spur-booted feet propped in the window-sill. He opened his eyes. ‘Howdy, Jim.” “Hello, Boyd. McBryde squeezed his bulk into a chair beside the sheriff’s. “Look here, Joe Fisher’s steers are ruin- ing my crop. His bootleggers are ruining my labor. I want some service from this outfit.” Boyd tore off a chew from his plug and crammed it into his cheek. “TI figgered they’d be doin’ jest that thing, Jim.” — “You didn’t have to figure,” said Jim Jevelly. ‘You knew it. This is the third time I’ve told you. Now, I want that warrant.”’ Boyd shifted the quid. “Jim, you know this here’s a no-fence county. Ain’t a law to touch his case.” “Well, Fisher’s got a still in that pin-oak timber. You know it, so does everybody else. I’ve told you just where it is. There’s plenty of law to touch that, isn’t there?” Boyd was studying his boot toes. “Jim, be sensible. You know what a mess we’re in over here. Six months of martial law. Just let anybody serve a warrant on Joe or any of his crowd an’ ’d break loose tomorrow. You know it. An’ we don’t want to go through that again.” Jim got up. ‘‘Where’s th’ rest of the crowd—judge and so on?” ‘“‘Won’t be here till next court day. I’m holdin’ down things. An’ I’m sittin’ tight, you hear me!”’ Emphatically he shook his head. “There’s goin’ to be peace in Grimsby long as Mister Boyd’s in charge o’ things. That’s straight, Jim.” Jim pointed his finger at the man. “I’m not comin’ over here any more. If I get hold of Joe Fisher, he’s goin’ to talk matters over with th’ sheriff of my county, under- stande”’ Boyd drew in a deep breath and looked at Jim gratefully. ‘“‘That’s th’ talk, Jim. Ill never raise my Adventure hand to that. You take it up with Joe an’’’—he raised his voice—‘“‘an’ keep me out o’ it!” Jim rode away, through the village, across the prairie fields of sun-scorched grass, deep into the pin-oak timber. He rode with bent head, thinking, thinking. It was up to him and he meant to see it through. The trail was narrow, deep- shadowed by the moss-hung limbs. And silent as death. Suddenly Jim looked up, reined in. The man of whom he had been thinking was riding as though to meet him. Jim sat watching the great black-bearded bulk of Joe Fisher sway rhythmically in the saddle to the accompanying cash-cash-cash of sun-dried leather. A man to match his own heroic mould, a man of great potential- ities misdirected. He reined up. “Howdy, Jim.” Jim nodded. “I’ve been over to Grimsby. I tried to get your steers an’ bootleggers stopped regular. They’re a bunch of yellow livers over there.” : Joe Fisher looked Jim McBryde up and down through black sparks shining behind the tangle of eyebrows. “Yellow livers, you say. That’s strong talk. What’s that about my steers?” ‘“‘An’ bootleggers,” supplemented Jim coldly. “The steers are ruinin’ my crop; your bootleggers are ruinin’ my labor. I’ve sent word to you about it—twice. Keep *em both off my land, Fisher.” “Expect me to fence Grimsby County line?” “No. Feed those cattle. That will keep ’em where they belong. Any half- decent man would do it.” Fisher raised himself in his saddle while the leather creaked and groaned. ‘Lookin’ for trouble?”’ “Tl tell you this,” said Jim. “I’ve warned you three times. If those boot- leggers of yours or those steers of yours cross my line once more, you’re goin’ to make th’ acquaintance of a sheriff an’ a judge that you can’t bully.” Fisher broke into roaring laughter. “Send him over, Jim. You know whar to find me.” “Yes, I know,” nodded Jim. “But I won’t send anybody. Ill come for you myself. Have you got that straight?” Fisher looked Jim up and down. ‘They tell me you’re a pretty good man oO Comicloooks C©