Adventure Magazine Cover, March 20, 1925 — page 159: what you’re looking at

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

Deuce High He’s took his chancet like a man, Bill has, and it ain’t fer me ner ary other human tuh hold it ag’in’ him fer not feelin’ cut up about losin’ his chancet at throwin’ his life away, fer that’s what it means, like as not. There’s only two trails a-leadin’ outa the basin, and it’s a cinch bet that both them trails is heavy guarded. Fer a minute she’s quiet as —— in the tent. Then Wyoming looks over to where Pete McCloud has hitched hisse’f up to a sittin’ position. He don’t say a word, Wyoming don’t, but there’s a sorter plead- in’ look in them gray eyes uh his that’s ask- in’ some question. “Uh course it’s all right with me, Wyo- ming,” says McCloud, and mebbyso it’s the flickerin’ light that causes it, er the ter- _ backer smoke, but from where I’m settin’ it shore looks like there’s tears in the Rang- er’s eyes. “T’m obliged, McCloud,” says Wyoming, like as if he’d asked fer a match and Pete had staked him tuh one. Then the boy turns tuh the rest uh the outfit. -“T’m pullin’ out in a few minutes, boys,” says he. “And mebbyso this is the last chance I’ll ever have tuh thank yuh all fer the way yuh done by me. Yuh never asked me no questions. Yuh treated me like I was one uh yuh. And yuh called me friend. I don’t reckon you boys savvies how much it means to me. Yuh jest nacherally can’t. Because none uh you has ever put in seven years uh his life hidin’ and dodgin’ and buryin’ hisse’f in the hills when he’s starvin’ fer the sound of a human voice. Seven years. Seems sometimes like it was seven thousand years.”’ He kinda choked up fer a minute and had tuh swaller the lump in his throat afore he could go on. . “T killed a gent seven years ago,” he con- tinues. “Killed him in a drunken row over a woman that I’d never laid eyes on till that night. A woman with bleached hair and a painted-up face. This gent had re- fused tuh buy her a drink and I was liquored enough tuh think he’d insulted her. I forces the fight; and when he goes fer his gun I downs him. “Twenty-one years old, boys. Jest outa college, where I'd worked my way along. With a tail holt on the world and a down- hill: pull, I loses all I’ve worked for when that bullet leaves my gun. I4I ‘But it ain’t my lost chances that makes me. lay awake nights, a-lookin’ up at the stars and prayin’ tuh God fer a fresh deal. It’s the fact that I killed that man. Who he was, I don’t know. But he was a human bein’ the same as me, a-lovin’ life as much as I was. And I’d done took away that life. Men, there ain’t a court in the world that kin hand me a harder sentence than I’ve give myse’f the past seven years. No coun- try, no name, and not a man tuh shake my hand and call me his friend. A ——, dodg- in’ coyote. “Fom my hideout above the basin I watched you boys work. Watched till I couldn’t stand it no longer. Then I come down and for the first time in seven years took my place among white men. And here, in this tent, God has give me what I been prayin’ fer. My chancel “McCloud knows my story. He spotted me today when I found him up yonder in the boulders. Knowin’ that I couldn’t never go back to that coyote life that was worse than hell, I gave myse’f up. And now the chance has come tuh sorter make up fer the killin’ uh that man. “T ain’t askin’ no favors, boys. I don’t want what I ain’t got the right tuh ask fer. But I wisht you boys could fergit my low- down, o’n’ary past and remember me as jest Wyoming.”’ And oncet more he turns to the Ranger. “Tf I git through alive, McCloud, I'll be waitin’ fer yuh at the border.” And before ary man kin find his voice, he’s gone. Bill’s the fust tuh pull his words outa the bog. “Foller him!” he says to me hoarse like. “Ketch him afore he pulls out and tell him— tell him— Yuh know what tuh tell the boy! Quit a-standin’ there like a cow waitin’ tuh git milked! Vamoose!” Which I does. Pronto. And I locates Wyoming as he’s swingin’ into his saddle. “T was hopin’ you'd foller,” he says, so low that I scarce kin hear him as I grips his hand. ‘You been like a dad tuh me, and I want tuh thank——” “T never follered yuh out here tuh be thanked,’ I growls hot-like, fer I’m havin’ tryin’ tuh keep from bellerin’ like a kid. “T jest want tuh tell yuh that every man in the Lazy Y is a-prayin’ fer yuh this night. They’ll be purty poor sorter prayers; but I reckon the Big Boss up yonder savvys our language even if it ain’t got no fancy CORnNIECLO© S CO