Adventure Magazine Cover — page 160: what you’re looking at

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

158 A thin column of blue smoke rose from the cut-coulée and Tad drove the cow and yearling toward it. Once out of sight, he took down his rope, and riding alongside the yearling, heeled the animal neatly. A minute later the yearling lay on its right side, its feet securely bound with Tad’s hogging-string. “Tron’s hot, Tad!”’ called Shorty. Tad ran to the fire, grabbed the iron, and the smell of scorching hair announced the fact that a clumsy Bar B was being rapidly converted into a fairly neat looking Tn- angle H B connected— “Gosh!” muttered Shorty admiringly. “Gosha’mighty, Tad. That’s shore slick. But who owns this here Triangle H B iron?” “The Slash R owns it, pardner!”’ Tad jerked his hogging-string free, tailed the yearling to its feet, and grinned widely as the animal trotted into the herd, followed but its dumbly inquisitive mother. They stamped out the fire, covered the half-burned greasewood sticks with dirt, then rode slowly toward the herd. Two hundred feet up the coulée, hidden by the sage-brush, Frenchy rose from his cramped position and slipped up the coulée to where he had cached his horse. ~ FROM all directions, headed to- mm ward the position on the flat where * Tad and Shorty held their little bunch of cattle, long strings of cattle trav- eled, driven by cow-punchers, barely visible through the clouds of alkali dust. Snatches of range songs, a tuneless whistle, shouted bantering, all mingled with the bawling of anxious cows who had been separated from their calves in the driving. The strings of cattle bunched up as they emerged from the coulées and were drifted across the sage-dotted flat. Shorty and Tad separated to ride around the fast increasing herd. One drive after another was thrown into the herd, and dust- covered cow-punchers rolled cigarets as they sat their sweat-caked horses. “One beeg round-up, eh, my good frien’?”’ grinned Frenchy as he met Tad. “Must be fifty irons represented,” was Tad’s shrewd guess as he looked the cattle over. ‘Good many outfits has stock in this here hold-up. But they don’t have no men with the Slash R wagon. How’s that happen, Frenchy?” ‘“‘Reebs don’ like reps to work weeth hees Adventure wagon. Sometimes thees other outfits send Over one rep. She don’ last long, some- how. Mebbeso hees horses get los’ een de night. Sometimes Reebs keep thees rep on day herd hall de time. So de rep she’s say, ‘De Slash R ees one of a outfit.” She’s cut her string, pack de bed hon de pack hoss, han’ go back home. You onderstan’?”’ “Ribs gives the reps such a tough deal, they won’t stay, eh?” “Outil”? Frenchy nodded. tough outfit, dees Slash R.” “Kind of a fightin’ spread, eh?” “Oui. Ees bad to mak’ bad frien’ weeth Reebs, M’sieur. Me, Frenchy, who ees half- “One ‘French han’ half-Cree, ees know ’bout dem theengs. Onderstan’?”’ Tad glanced sharply at the breed, but Frenchy was looking at a yearling that had pushed to the edge of the herd. Tad, fol- lowing Frenchy’s gaze, saw that it was the yearling he and Shorty had branded. Frenchy looked up, meeting the big cow- puncher’s eyes. “Onderstan’, M’sieur Tad?” he asked softly, then before Tad could reply, the half-breed turned his horse and rode away, whistling a gay song. Tad, puzzled, watched him draw rein as he met Ribs Austin on the other side of the herd. “Doggone! That breed is wise,” mut- tered the cow-puncher. “I bet he helped Ribs brand that critter yesterday. Things is li’ble to tighten when Ribs sees that year- lin’. Only one thing’ll kéep him from jump- in’ me and Shorty. He’s as good as con- fessin’ to workin’ that brand hisse’f when he jumps me fer makin’ a Bar B into the Tri- angle H B. He’s gotta kill me ’n’ Shorty er keep mum about the yearlin’ and grin like his medicine tasted good. I’m wonderin’ which he’ll do.” Tad turned his horse and rode at a walk towards Ribs and Frenchy. “T punched cows fer a long, long time And I ain't run a wagon yet. I punched cows fer a long, long time And this is what I e’t.”’ The voice that rendered this ballad of the cow camps was a bit off key and somewhat cracked as to tone, but it was sweet music to the ears of Tad Ladd for the singer was his partner, Shorty, and Shorty was riding towards Ribs and Frenchy from the oppo- site direction. DOOLK nn (C@ in