Adventure Magazine Cover — page 165: what you’re looking at

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

The Grub-Line Cattle dotted the ridges and across the flat they could see the beef herd grazing under the guidance of several Slash R punchers. ‘“‘Nary rider except the day herders, Shorty,” grinned Tad. ‘Looks like things was movin’ our way.” ‘“‘*Pears thataway, Tad. Bet the crew’s makin’ the most uh the chanct and all hands is drunk while Ribs is gone.” “Uh-huh. Well, let’s see what we kin find up that long draw to the right.” It was some minutes later that they emerged from the upper end of the draw, hazing a small bunch of cattle. Keeping to the coulées, they worked the bunch across the creek and into a cut-coulée on the Bar B range. In the course of the next half-hour the cattle drifted out of the coulée. Shorty sat on a knoll, smoking and scanning the surrounding country. Tad remained in the coulée. Only once did Shorty leave his look-out station and then only long enough to lope to Steve’s ranch and return with a burlap sack, a pick and shovel. These he left in the coulée and again resumed his stand on the knoll. Near sundown, Tad whistled and Shorty joined his partner in the coulée. Together they rode toward town in the gathering dusk. Across the pommel of Tad’s saddle was the sack, and the sack bulged with some flabby object. Shorty left the pick and shovel at the Bar B ranch and then they rode on. “Yo’re gettin’ off light, runt,” grunted the perspiring Tad. “TI got blisters bigger’n dol- lars on my hands from swingin’ that pick.” “Good! Yo’re allers travelin’ OA yore shape, swellin’ yore chest and _ struttin’ aroun’ so’s folks kin see that yo’re bigger’n a skinned mule. It’s the fust time I ever got a chanct tuh cash in on yore bigness. I fur- nish the brains, you supply the muscle, savvy?” Hub,” grunted Tad. “Know what yuh gotta do when we hit town?” “Shore do, Taddie.”’ ‘Well keep millin’ it aroun’ in yore skull so’s yuh won’t make no fool mistakes. Don’t let it slip outa yore mind that me ’n’ you is bustin’ the law wide open and if we git’ caught, we’re goners.”’ Over and over, as they covered the forty ‘miles between the Bar B ranch and town, the two partners discussed their plan. 163 When the lights of town showed in the dis- tance they separated and Shorty rode on at a lope while Tad loitered along slowly, taking care to keep far from the stage road that led into town. Shorty let his horse slow down to a walk when he came to the main street. Past the saddle shop and general merchan- dise store, without pausing at the row of saloons on his left, Shorty did not draw rein until he reached the hitch-rack in front of the sheriff’s office. The shades were not drawn, and the little cow-puncher made out the wide- shouldered form of the sheriff bent over some papers on his desk. ““Come in,”’ called the sheriff in response to Shorty’s knock. He looked up with a scowl when he recognized his visitor. “Well?” he asked a bit gruffly. “Jest dropped in to have a pow-wow with yuh, Sheriff,” Shorty began, his level gaze meeting that of the officer unwaveringly. The sheriff motioned him to a rawhide- seated chair. | “Yo’re sizin’ me and my pardner up kinda wrong, Sheriff. I come in to kinda set yuh right, savvy?” The sheriff grunted skeptically. “You and the big gent work fer the Slash R, don’t yuh?” “We did but we done quit yesterday mornin’.”’ “Himm.” The sheriff smiled hig disbe- lief. ‘Yet you was forkin’ of a Slash R hoss today at Dunlap’s place.” ‘Austin give me the Paint hoss. Kinda outlaw, Paint is. I rode him without clawin’ leather and Ribs Austin staked me to the critter fer keeps.” “Then why didn’t he vent the hoss?” snapped the wary officer. “Didn’t have time. We left the spread in kind of a hurry.” “Uh-huh. Yeah. I reckon I savvy yore game, stranger. You and yore pard- ner is two uh the witnesses ag’in’ the Steve boy. Yore evidence as strangers and un- prejudiced cow-hands is worth a heap more with a jury than if you was drawin’ Slash R pay. But yo’re workin’ kinda clumsy at it. Ribs Austin ain’t in the habit uh givin’ away good hoss flesh. And you two fellers happenin’ along about the time Steve shoots his beef, then showin’ today at jest the right time all looks to me like you was actin’ under Ribs Austin’s orders.” NOOK C@ in