Adventure Magazine Cover — page 107: what you’re looking at

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

The Lord of the Stony Rises off-hand I can’t tell whether ’e’s fooling his- self or fooling me. First—what d’you know?—he digs up a sort of friend in the Survey office and gets a squatter’s license in forty-eight hours—thanks to my informa- tion. T’aint fair, but what couldI say? ’E paid. ‘‘Then there’s the cattle. I was all for buying a bunch of pig-meaters, something cheap, just good enough to shove on to the grass and keep old John busy buying us out. Well, sir, ’Arold ’e digs up another friend—Bill Coleman! Yes, sir, the packer, and Coleman lets him in on three hun- dred prime short ’orns, which ’e pays cash for. “Says I— “*°Arold, this is fine for you but I seem to be out in the cold.’ ““Oh, not at all,’ says he in that ladida way of ’is, which is worse’n poison to me. ‘Oh, not at all, I’m merely supplying the properties, you'll have to do all the real work because I’m utterly ignorant. You’ll be general manager and we'll split the profits evenly.’ “And let me tell you, Mr. Barton, I’m going to ’ave more than ’awf the profits afore I’m through with ’im and Burdette. I know what’s coming to me.”’ “Hm,” remarked Mr. Barton, busy wip- ing his counter. ‘Did you say that to your ’Arold, too?” “Like —— I did,’ Mitcham snorted. “A few eye-openers won’t do ’im any ’arm.”’ “You make a nice foreman,” said Mr Barton with a heavy wink. ‘‘When d’you pull out?” “Day after tomorrow. I got to rope in a couple of ’ands to ’elp with the bunch and that’s another surprize for ’Arold.” But the chief surprize was handed to Mitcham when he broached the subject early next morning. ‘They chanced to be walking down a deserted lane between two rows of stock-yard fences. Rushton halted in his tracks and said cheerfully: “For once I have to disagree with you, much as it pains me. I don’t think we can afford to hire two stockriders.”’ ‘We can’t——” | “‘We shall have to do without them, be- cause, quite honestly, I’m almost down to my last penny.” “Then the whole thing’s off,” growled Mitcham. “You can’t expect me to tail a 97 herd all day long and ring it at night for two weeks or more. Twenty-four perishing hours a day! Blimey, t’ain’t worth it!” “Have you forgotten Burdette?”’ “Oh, him? That’s right. Say, couldn’t we take just one good man?” ‘“‘Here you are,’’ Rushton gently tapped his fawn-colored waistcoat. ‘Here is the one good man. Your wish is rewarded.” “It needs an hexpert,’”’? Mitcham labored to - explain. ‘‘’Course, you’re_ willing, ’Arold, I can tell that. But this ’ere busi- ness takes learning, and it ain’t every man as can handle a whip and keep the bullocks on the move.”’ “T think I am just the man for the job,” said Rushton. “As I am apt to remark with great frequency, I’m a most extraordi- nary fellow. My gifts may be small but how well do I use them!”’ The sight of the gloved and complacent shrimp solemnly asserting his ability to handle an unwieldy herd exasperated Mitcham so much that he permitted him- self the luxury of violent blasphemy: A short, sharp outburst, a squall across the deceitfully calm surface of his temper. Rushton slowly raised his hat and said: - 6c Amen.”’ “But, good ——!” exclaimed Mitcham, towering above the object of his wrath, “don’t you understand? It’s ’ard, tough work. Got to keep busy most all day long. You can’t let up and drink tea out of dainty cups,” which was his idea of complete effeminacy. ‘You got to sweat to hustle a bunch of steers from ’ere to the Shaw. ‘Arold,”’ he became a shade more tact- ful, “‘you got to realize things, as you might say. Your ’eart’s big but you ain’t cut out to be a stockman. You got to lemme do this my way and I got to ’ave another husky fellow like myself. What could you do with a twelve-foot whip like this one ’ere? Most likely you’d cut your ears off. No, it won’t do. Come along, of course, if you want to, and welcome, but the work—”’ “Let us,” put in Rushton in a very gentle voice, “let us come to an understanding, most trustworthy Mitcham. Your solici- tude for my well-being touches me deeply but you don’t know the ’awf of it.” “The ’awf of what?” “Of me to be sure. I am many-sided.” Rushton peeled off his gloves, smoothed them out and tucked them neatly into an inner pocket of his coat. From another Go NOOK 1 @)