Adventure Magazine Cover — page 169: what you’re looking at

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

The Grub-Line alone at her homestead, trailin’ nie and Shorty from sun-up till dark. Takin’ her chances like a man would. Nerve? I'd tell a man!” Musing thus, half angry, half pleased with this girl who thought he was a liar and a thief, Tad topped the ridge above the Bar B ranch and halted. His eyes narrowed to slits as he saw a rider draw rein at the cabin. He needed no second look to tell him that the rider was Frenchy. The half-breed dismounted.and, boldly en- tering the cabin, closed the door after him. Swinging into a coulée that hid him from the house, Tad rode swiftly to the corral, slipped to the ground and approached the cabin from the side that had no window. Cautiously he approached the door and paused to listen to the voices that came from within the cabin. “Don’t go for be scare,”’ came Frenchy’s voice. “I’m good frien’ for you. I’m come to tell you sometheeng.”’ “Friend?” The girl’s voice, trembling a bit, was heavy with contempt. ‘TI think not. I don’t want your friendship.” ‘Suppose I tell you I can get Steve Dun- lap free from de jail? Eh? You be friend weeth Frenchy den, eh? I’m theenk so, me.”’ ‘‘What do you mean?” ‘““Mebbeso I go hon de stan’ han’ testify de truth ’bout de hide. I’m tell how de hide get hin de haystack, mebbeso. By gar, you'll call Frenchy one good frien’, eh?”’ “You mean you'll tell the truth about the hide when you testify?” “Out.” Frenchy paused a second. “‘Meb- be. Depend hon you.’ “On me?” “Out. Frenchy ees reech man, by gar. I’m go hon de stan’ han’ tell what I know. Reebs Austin she’s go to de pen, savvy? Den de Slash R belong to me, Frenchy, onderstan’? Dees Steve, she’s poor man. She’s broke. No more cattle. She can’t geeve de wife fine clothes. But Frenchy, who ees reech man, can geeve hees woman hall dese theengs. Before de trial we go han’ get marry.. Nobody know. De trial come. I’mswear Reebs Austin into de pen. W’at you say, eh?” “You beast! Marry you? You? Id die first. Get out of this house or [’Jl—” Her voice ended in a thin scream and Tad, white to the lips, heard the crash of an overturned table. 167 The creak of the opening door caused the breed to release the struggling girl and face the intruder. His hand dropped to his gun. A fraction of a second too late, however. Tad’s bony fist crashed against the breed’s jaw. <A second blow and Frenchy dropped in his tracks. Patsy Darcey, white with fear but making a game fight to keep her self-control, faced the big cow-puncher. “Better git yore hoss saddled and hit the trail fer town, ma’am.” Tad, conscious of his disreputable appearance, became sud- denly self-conscious. “But—but I don’t understand.” ‘“*Course yuh don’t, ma’am. Let’s get outa here afore that breed comes alive. I don’t want tuh kill him while there’s a lady present. I’ll ride a ways with yuh, ma’am. We got somethin’ to talk about, me and you has, ma’am.’ Tad saddled her horse for her and they got under weigh before Frenchy commenced stirring. For some distance they rode im silence. Then Tad handed her the quirt. “Vuh dropped it yesterday evenin’, ma’am,”’ he grinned. The girl flushed. “How did you— day?” “Vesterday and the day before and the day before that and a few more times. Ma/’am, if me and my pardner was the kind uh gents you think we are, you’d never have got home last night. You was goin’ to town after the sheriff today?”’. The girl did not answer. “Looky here, ma’am. Yo’re game as they make ’em. Plumb smart, too. Yo’re wearin’ yorese’f plumb ga’nt, buckin’ a framed game, tryin’ to save the Steve boy from goin’ to the pen. But yo’re wearin’ yorese’f out fer nothin’. Steve Dunlap is goin’ to come clear.”’ “Have you a similar proposition to that one offered by that half-breed?” Tad stiffened. Every vestige of em- barrassment vanished as he met the girl’s eyes. “T reckon I’Jl be turnin’ back from here, ma’am. You kin ride into town and tell that sheriff whatever you’ve a mind to. Tell him and be , beggin’ yore pardon, miss.” Tad lifted his battered hat and with a stiff bow, turned his horse. You saw me yester- NOOK C@© inn