Adventure Magazine, April 10, 1924 — page 159: what you’re looking at

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

Riding Back through whole. They thawed him, renewed his circulation and brought him to par. But when he opened his eyes, he thought of none of his own affairs. “Doc!” he exclaimed. “That hoss— Take care of him. He’s—he’s——” ‘“‘Never mind, brother!” the doctor said. “He’s eating alfalfa, corn and oats in the Bon Ton garage this minute! The boys are nursing his ears, too—account of their being touched a bit, nipped!” —. “Yeh! I know—I rubbed ’em. I rubbed em,’ Tierail said, musing. Some time later, something more than a week, Tierail was up and clumping around, with aching legs, and arms, and his ears and nose peeling, but with blood circulating, nevertheless, as the doctor assured him, his gait like that of an old plains rider. “Now that hoss, doc,” Tierail demanded. “T want to know "bout that hoss! I neveh rode no. hoss jes’ like that, not in all my borned days! Why, say, he was jes’ a reg’lar he-hoss, spirited an’—an’ gritty, but keerful. You know—friendly—considerate! Why, you know, I bet if hit wa'n’t for that blizzard, they ain’t no blamed man could a rid that hoss! I could jes’ feel him, the way he set to hit—he wa’n’t no common hoss. He was right off’n the range, but sensible. He knowed we had to pull together, that hoss!”’ THE snow was gone. The streets ==; were dried up. The city of Garden Gate was once more in the beauty and splendor of a high-range May, with the flowers blooming over the plains, and the cattle that had survived the Winter were going out to feed on the strong grass of the great uplands. Tierail limped and clumped, but un- assisted went down the hospital steps to the city taxi. He was heading around to see that horse. He was driven along Red Desert Street, out toward the fair-grounds. A lot of people were watching him go, covertly. In fact, a kind of parade was formed, surreptitiously, so to speak, and everybody sort of sauntered along in it to go down with him. They met another parade coming up, from the corrals and pens—from the big garage and adjacent livery barns. The two parades opened wide their heads, in a manner, and Tierail stood up to see clearly. Sure! There was a horse, a sorry 0 7 ey yellow horse, with scraggling tail and mane, with angular bones and a saw-tooth range along his back. “Sho—doc!”’ Tierail stared at the animal, speaking to the man beside him. “Is that— is that there the hoss that brought me in— that what I actually rode?” “Yes, sir, Tierail!’’ “‘An’—an’ that’s the Bird-Brand—shore’s I’m borned!”’ “Yes, sir, Tierail. Waltzing Jupiter!” “Sho, I know!” Tierail nodded. “I know—I knew hit all along, but doggone, now I gotta b’lieve what I know. When I went up on that doggone back, I shore knowed hit was familiar. Huh! Nobody eveh knowed that back, them rolling-fat ribs like I knowed ’em! Nope! Um-m— The way he shuddered, that fustest moment. Course, I’d neveh forget that! Yas, suh! I *lowed—I ‘lowed neveh to know that feeling ag’in. But I did. Him! An’, doc. He brought me in. He brought me back. Way back! How come he done hit, doc?” “Us boys have all been figuring on that, Tierail!’’ The doctor admitted. ‘Reckon we used up more dictionary language than on any other subject, not barring cattle, sheep or weather, and we don’t know nor agree yet.” “Well, well, I know doc!” Tierail ex- claimed lunging toward the horse with a low, exultant whoop, then talaing as he approached. Waltzing Jupiter tossed Ne head, in a kind of shamefaced, has-been way. The man threw his arms around the scrawny neck. He patted that sorry old yellow horse, the wreck of as wild and spirited a brute as ever made rodeo tradition. Tierail struggled against the emotions that filled him. He tried to talk in the old way, low and gentle, but he gave way to his feelings. Then the crowd, to a man, took off their hats; they understood. A man had come back, and knew it. “Doc!” Tierail beckoned. “Well, Tierail?’’ “You know me, doc!’ Tierail said, low and fiercely. “You know me. TI have money in the bank. [I run a big business. I own two blocks up town, theh! I ain’t no blamed old has-been! I’m—I’m—kind of a he-man, I am!” “Sure—I know!” the physician lookeil puzzled, nevertheless. ‘That’s him. That’s ‘“Come here!”’ GO NOOK (C@ S|