Adventure Magazine Cover — page 81: what you’re looking at

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

Point of View What a fool to come like this! What a fool! He started, steel-taut in every fiber. Just beyond the light a splintering crackling sound, a moment of fearful silence and then the thundering plunge of a giant limb to earth. A limb, that was all. But what a limb! The echo of its crashing fall echoed like the roll of an explosion. And then, with chills racing up and down through his veins, Jim McBryde heard the swift running of many feet. Coming—his way! Saddler! Loyal old Saddler had come in the nick of time, bringing men to blot out that ugly menace there beyond the rim of light—men who would fight! “Come on boys, come on!’’ Even as he shouted, Jim McBryde sprang at the lantern, dashed it to the ground and smothered all things in a blanket of black. Instantly he heard the stumbling rush of bodies about. There was a flash, a red one. And a hot humming fanned his cheek. Then headlong plunging through the tim- ber. Fisher’s henchmen were running for their lives. “Saddler! This way! Come on, boys Something knocked him down and went over and beyond him. The night became a black chaos of rushing bodies, hot-breathed snorts. Jim McBryde felt himself falling asleep. 19 IT WAS broad daylight when he awoke. He was lying on the ground, gazing up through the sun- flecked festoons of silvery moss. And Sad- dler was bathing his head with water, and the sound of many voices was in his ears. He sat up and looked stupidly about him. There opposite him, his back against a tree, sat great Fisher. His wrists were crossed in the cold clutch of handcuffs. And in bv Bill Adarhws T’S all in the point of wiew, isn’t it? Last week one morning, at nine A.M., I jumped into my car and drove with never a stop save for gas or oil until six-thirty in the evening, at thirty miles an hour all the time. When I reached my destination a good woman said: ** Point of View," Copyright, 1923, by Bill Adams. 75 McBryde’s nostrils was the stifling odor of alcohol. ‘Well, thank th’ Lord you’re up!” It was Saddler. ‘“‘Musta been some fight. Found you both dead to th’ world. Who shot?” “One of Fisher’s men,” said McBryde, with effort remembering. ‘‘You heard it? They were waiting to make up their minds— about me. If a limb hadn’t fallen an’ brought those starvin’ steers runnin’ for its moss “What you talkin’ about?” demanded Saddler. ‘“‘We haven’t been here long. Just finished breakin’ up th’ still. Th’ sheriff an’ me got a crowd when you didn’t show up an’ Ks “TI know,” said Jim, getting weakly to his feet. ‘I know. I bluffed ’em a while about my havin’ a crowd behind me. Then that limb fell. Th’ steers heard it an’ came runnin’ to get th’ moss. First I thought it was~you. Then one of ’em knocked me down an’ I saw what was up. But Fisher’s crowd—they thought—well, they thought just right for me.” He turned and surveyed the destruction as Saddler put his hand on his arm. “Jim,” he was saying, “I told you I brought th’ sheriffi—our sheriff. He says if we'll bring Fisher across th’ river of our own free will, he’ll see that you won’t have any more trouble. I’ve already busted up his outfit of my own free will, an’ if he can walk T’ll finish it up.” - He approached the glowering, shackeled man. ‘Come on, Mr. Fisher. Our county court-house is still doin’ business. They’re expectin’ you over there. Seems like Grimsby County’s willin’ Jim McBryde handles your case. So I guess everybody’s goin’ to be satisfied.” Point of View “But your dinner? Why, you’ve had no dinner. Oh, isn’t that dreadful?” I laughed saying: “On my way I picked up a tramp who hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning. What’s one meal to miss? Lots of good people miss two or three, one after another, and nobody knows or cares.” Life’s a peculiar fiddle-tune, isn’t it? oO COmiclbook (©