Adventure Magazine Cover — page 114: what you’re looking at

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

104 finally were hustled away from the lake- shore and again headed westward. ~* GILDING discovered the outrage. “38 For several days there had been a - rumor that Tad Mitcham had come back to the Shaw with a drove of cattle, but at Credion the rumor had been dis- counted. Such things didn’t happen, that was all—but even if Mitcham was in the neighborhood he was no doubt on his way to the untenanted, unexplored territory be- yond Portland. The rumor persisted. Calling one morn- ing at the Wallen ranch-house Gilding was told the dreadful facts. “We had them here for a night,” said Wallen, carefully hiding a smile. ‘That was, let me think, about ten days ago. They went due north from here, straight toward the marshes——”’ | “But there’s no passage——’”’ “That’s where you go wrong, Gilding. There is a passage! Mitcham is not as dumb as—as some people think. He knows more than I do about my own boundaries. There’s a stretch of dry ground clear across, only you’ve got to know where to look.” “‘And he’s over there.now on Mr. Bur- dette’s property?” “You better believe it,’’ laughed Wallen. “With three hundred good-looking animals too. And you should see his partner! Goes by the name of Rushton. He looks ss “T’ll see him soon enough,”’ put in Gilding. “And speaking of Tad Mitcham, why didn’t you let Mr. Burdette know what was happening?”’ “{ have nothing to do with it,”” Wallen said with great satisfaction. ‘I’m abso- lutely passive. Let ’em fight it out to- gether. And unless I am much mistaken the north shore of the Shaw doesn’t belong to Burdette anyhow. What’s he kicking about?” “Doesn’t belong ——”’ spluttered Gilding, aghast. “No. It does not. He’s never had so much as a heifer over there in thirty years.” “But he’s just bought two thousand head of store-cattle from——” “Too late! Old John has found somebody to stand up to him at last. I never had the nerve to, worse luck! And the match isn’t Mitcham. Have a good look at Rushton, he’s the boss-mackaye of the outfit.” Gilding waited for no more. His own Adventure job was at stake. He rode back to Credion, fifty-odd miles away, at racing speed and appeared before his master as the latter was preparing to answer the summons of the dinner-gong. John Burdette never allowed any one to disturb him until he reached the cheese- and-cracker course. Though he dined alone he dined in state, sitting alone and silent at the head of his candle-lit table. He drank port because his father and his father before him drank port, and his face by the time the meal was over took on the tawny color of the wine. Gilding was obliged to wait for an hour or more and when he was at last admitted into the presence the words came tripping and tumbling off his lips. “Wait,” ordered John Burdette. a glass of port, Gilding.”’ It was an inflexible ritual: Glass of port for the foreman, who drank standing. Fore- men never sat in John Burdette’s presence. “Thank you, sir. Yes, sir. But this is very urgent——”’ ‘“‘Have ‘“‘Here’s a glass. Help yourself. Good health, Gilding.” ‘Yes, sir. Good health to you, sir, and I’ve just come back from seeing Mr. Wallen——”’ “That bounder——”’ “Yes, sir.” “Keep your opinions to yourself!’ thun- dered Burdette. ‘“‘How dare you criticize Mr. Wallen?” “T’m sorry, sir, but I’m all upset. Some- thing terrible has happen u ‘Have another glass of port.” “Thank you, sir. If I may finish telling you—it’s about Tad Mitcham. -You may remember him——”’ “That good-for-nothing drunkard!’’ “Exactly, sir. He’s come back and he’s settled north of the river where you were going to turn loose the new batch sd Burdette’s face was swollen and purple, veins stood out in thick knots and cords on his forehead and neck. His right hand closing about the stem of a wine glass crushed it to tinkling fragments. His fin- gers dripped blood on to the table-cloth. “Go on,” he said thickly. ‘Tell me what you know. Make it short!”’ While his foreman talked he sat motion- less and inert, his head thrust forward as if listening—listening to some other voice which was very far away and difficult to catch. Go NOOK 1 @)