Adventure Magazine, December 10, 1924 — page 123: what you’re looking at

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

The Homesteaders “Sioux?” “He rides alone. Must be a white man.” “Shall we ride after and catch up with him?”’ “Wait. He may be nding from some- thing that follows close.” ‘“‘There’s no one following him. I must get home. My folks will be sick with worry. Our horses are rested. We can overtake him. He will havea gun. The Sioux won’t leave the river to chase one man, or two,”’ she insisted, her voice sounding querulous for the first time since they entered on their dangerous adventure. “‘Wait! He rides slowly. His horse is played out. If we join him we must hold back.” / ‘“‘That’s selfish. His horse would soon get rested.” “Back there! Do you see something?” His voice was choked. He was panting with excitement. She shaded her eyes and stared in silence for thirty seconds: then whispered: “Like a string of beads. Dots above the grass.” Murray cupped his ear to listen. A faint, ululating cry came over the tall grass—the hunting call of the Sioux when man is the quarry. The isolated dot in the lead, now nearly due west from the house and going south, seemed to be making poor progress. They saw a patch of black smoke lazily float up from him and then heard the dull boom of a gun. “God!”’ gasped Murray. _ Agrassy ridge hid the pursued from view, nor did they glimpse him again. But for some minutes the string of dots were to be seen; then one by one dipping into a hollow, the pursuers vanished. The booming of the white man’s gun sounded twice before there came a new note. Murray whispered: “Closing in on him! Shotguns. barrels at a time.” There was no more shooting, and Murray was sick at heart. ‘““He’s got away!” whispered the girl. He nodded. He knew how the lone rider had escaped; and he hoped several of the Sioux had gone first over the long trail. There came another tense period of wait- ing; then the heads of the Indians reap- peared. This time they were considerably nearer the house. There were five of them. The girl had counted seven when they dipped down the western skyline. As they Two IQl topped a low ridge abreast the front of the house the hidden watchers glimpsed two ponies carrying dead men. ‘“‘They paid a good price,’’ Murray mur- mured. “But he got away?”’ she faintly repeated. “Yes. He got away. He’s far from here by now.” They crouched low against the wall, no longer daring to steal glances through the doorway. They depended upon their ears until Murray knew that the men had passed on or were very close. Then he ventured to peep out. “Thank God! They’ve gone by!” he hoarsely exclaimed. The Sioux had given no heed to the ruin of a house and seemed anxious to regain the river where the killing would be easier and less dangerous. The girl was now impatient to leave the place. Murray was as eager as she; but the tragedy enacted in the grass and almost under their eyes warned him that their world was not so empty as they had supposed. “We'll wait till the sun is lower,” he “Waiting will kill me!” she cried. “TI feel choked all over. in the Indian village.” “It’s dull work, but I believe it’s safer,” he persisted, feeling quite helpless under her insistence. “But you should not be afraid if I’m willing to risk it,’”’ she retorted. His face colored, and he angrily told her: “You forget. There’s no danger for me so long as I wear the crow. You pin it on your dress and promise to keep it there if we meet Sioux and I’ll start now.” She was silent for a bit, then quietly answered. “ll not wear the crow-skin. I didn’t mean what my foolish words seemed to mean. There’s no doubt about your cour- age. We’ll stay as long as you think best. It was the sight of that man, riding alone. If he got away when chased I thought we could get clear when no Indians are follow- ing us.” “Possibly,” he admitted. ‘But we might not be as lucky as that man.” He turned his attention to watching patches of cloud-shadow darken the grass. Thundercaps in the north told of a storm over the Minnesota. Murray hoped it would rain heavily. He was suddenly CoMmicbook This is as bad as the loft - C© 5}