Adventure Magazine Cover — page 170: what you’re looking at

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

168 “Wait!” There were tears in the gifl’s eyes as she called to him. “I’m a little cat tosay that. I’msorry. I’m upset this morning. ‘These days and nights of worry and running away from that breed have driven me to the point where I fear every man. ‘Today isn’t the first time that beast has come to the Bar Branch. And yester- day he followed me, I’m sure. I don’t understand about those cattle. Nor do I know any reason why I should trust you. But I don’t believe you are as bad as you seem. I want to thank you for what you did for me this morning.” She held a small tanned hand toward the now embarrassed cow-puncher, who took it much in the same manner that a man holds a hot potato. “You'll promise not to tell nobody if I tell you about them Bar B yearlin’s, ma’am?”’ “You bet [ll promise,’”’ smiled the girl. As they rode toward town, Tad told her of the Triangle H B yearling and how they happened to leave the Slash R wagon. “Ribs Austin is stealin’ the boy blind, ma’am,” Tad told her. ‘‘So me and Shorty is fightin’ fire by buildin’ a back-fire, sabe? We're pickin’ up all the mavericks we kin find and puttin’ ’em into the Bar B iron. The Steve boy will have a nice bunch uh stock when he gits outa jail.” “If he ever gets out,’ added the girl skeptically. Tad chuckled. “He’ll come clear, don’t worry. Me ’n’ my li’l’ ole pardner has that fixed.” “But Steve’s lawyer has advised him to plead guilty and throw himself on the mercy of the court. He thinks that by making a strong plea he can get Steve off with a light sentence.” “Gosha’mighty! I never figgered on that. Listen, ma’am. You tell Steve to plead not guilty, no matter what the law sharp says. Sufferin’ snakes! That’d shore sp’ile things fer keeps. Tell Steve to stick to the story that he killed one uh his own critters. Which he did, and me and my pardner aims tuh prove it fer him. You’ll trust ole Tad Ladd enough to do as he says?” “Tl do it. I promise. Perhaps I’m making a mistake but I think not.” “That’s the idee, ma’am. The Slash R is shore goin’ tuh git one big jolt at that trial. You bet.’”’ Tad chuckled and slapped his leg. ‘Meanwhile me and Shorty will Adventure keep on buildin’ up the Bar B herd. Hmm. Did you say that breed follered yuh to our camp in the cafion?”’ “Y’m afraid he did. Or perhaps it was Ribs Austin. Whoever it was that fol- lowed me kept far enough away to keep their identity a secret. Thinking you and your partner were in the employ of the Slash R, I figured they were merely trying to keep me from finding that hiding-place to which you led the yearlings you were brand- ing every day. Id ride hard to give them the slip, then double back and hunt for the hidden corral where those cattle were going. I’m afraid I’ve tipped them off to your hiding-place.”’ “Hmm. And that breed is goin’ to be shore on the prod by now. Reckon I’d better be gettin’ back to Shorty. Mind what I told yuh. Tell the Steve boy to stick to his story and trust to me and Shorty. So long!” Tad lifted his hat, grinned a cheerful farewell, and started back along the trail at a stiff lope. The girl watched him out of sight, then rode on toward town, fresh hope lighting up her eyes and driving the worried lines from her tanned face. we TAD, pushing his horse hard, tried to shake off the vague premonition of evil that obsessed him. Fired by re =i impatience, worried in spite of his efforts to control his feelings, the miles seemed end- less and he had to fight himself to keep from spurfing his horse to a run. Never had the miles seemed so long to Tad as they did now. - At Jast he reached the edge of the Bad Lands and spurred his mount at reckless speed down the steep trail. Sliding to a halt, he whistled three times. It was an old signal that he and his partner had used a hundred times. The last echo of the signal died away, leaving an unbroken, sinister silence. Thor- oughly alarmed, Tad rode swiftly up the cafon. He held his gun ready and his eyes swept the brush. A twist in the trail brought him to the brush fence. The cow-puncher’s jaw sagged with astonish- ment. The fence had been torn down and the sign showed that the cattle had been driven down the cafion. Whirling his horse, Tad followed the sign. As he neared the spot where he and MICLOOOK (C@ in