Adventure Magazine Cover — page 141: what you’re looking at

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

Battle of a Thousand Hoofs They will flee in fear They will seize the They will rampant refugees. and consternation. only transportation available. ride my burros off!” Jim sighed wearily. “Let’s don’t think about it now,” he pleaded. ‘“‘Let’s go and eat.” “You and me, Jim,”’ Joash went on with unexpected cunningness, ‘“‘we won't tell the populace nothing about the raid. We'll wait till dark and drive our burros off into the hills. Ever man for himself first, and then the next feller if they’s any time left. Hey, Jim?” Jim’s somber, hungry face lighted for an instant with amused derision at this queer turn of the kind-hearted old man. “You crool old fake!’’ he said. The two approached the first clump of adobe houses. Mexicans, men and women, were lounging in the shade. They eyed Jim’s rags and tatters curiously and spoke brief greetings to the returned prodigal, and then they called out sociably to Joash. “Ai, sevwor, how are the mocking-birds today? Will they not be flying over the top of the cage pretty soon to catch some worms for food?” There were snickering and grins. “When will the great slaughter be, senor??? We would see your bold hand swing the bowie-knife on their throats.” “Is it true, Sefior Joash,” rattled a tooth- less hag, “that thou wouldst kill the sweet long-ear mice that squeak he-haw-he-haw!”’ The crowd roared with mirth. Joash was very uncomfortable, but he tried not to let it be seen. These people were just being friendly. He liked them. They liked him. He laughed and waved a hand. One more derisive shout came— “We do not think you are chicken- hearted, Grandpapa!”’ When they were well past, Jim scrutinized the little man’s face. “What they driving at about you?” he asked curiously. “They think I haven’t got the nerve to kill them donks.”’ “Have your” . Joash laughed apologetically. “Not hardly,” he admitted. “How long you had them burros cooped up ready to slaughter?” “Full week, Jim. I'll tell ye—I’ll con- fess to you. I ain’t killed ’em—can’t af- ford shells to shoot ’em with, and it’s too 131 doggone cold-blooded to cut their throats. The cunnin’ little things with their soft, reproachful eyes. It’d be like killing off some folks you know, or monkeys. [’m right square in the middle of a pickle-lil, Jim, and I’ve got to do some thinkin’ to get out.” “Not now, Joash. My thinker’s flabby,” urged Jim. ‘Let’s get something or other to eat.” “Jim, there isn’t anything in the shack but a half-box of oatmeal.” “Let’s go to Tubby’s rest’runt then.” “No credit. You know Tubby.”’ “Joash, you are chicken-hearted. You ain’t got enough he about you to slaughter the donks, and now you ain’t got the audac- ity to ask Tubby for a little time on some chili and cawfee.” “Whore Ain’t got the nerve? Me? Why, I'll make that Tubby fill you up like a sack. Come on, and while we eat we'll figger a way to unhorse the Straddler.” Ee «6 TUBBY was fat and greasy and frowning. When Joash and Jim =a arrived at the place of food, the proprietor stood on the dirt floor behind the counter with his fists laid out among salt shakers and ketchup bottles, frowning at his prospective customers suspiciously. Joash slid his hat to the other side of his head and spoke ingratiatingly. “Howdy, Tubby. How’s tricks today?” “Tricks are all right. What do you want?” ‘‘Jim, he’s been living on sand and cactus, Tubby. We'd like to get a few meals on tick till I realize on my burros.” “You ain’t goin’ to realize on your burros.”’ “No?” ‘“‘They say you’re too chicken-hearted to kill them. I think you are.” “But we got to eat.” “Not off o’ me.”’ Tubby raised a thick arm and pointed a thick finger to the wall. Joash and Jim read the sign there: Absipositively NO CREDIT THIS MEANS YOU Recollect Where You Entered To remind them where they entered, Tubby swung his thick finger to the door. Go DOOLK 1 @)