Adventure Magazine Cover — page 117: what you’re looking at

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

Pards The hunter emptied his pipe and stood up, and remarked: “My red name means “The First Speaker.’ When will you write your talk for the singer?” Goss paced the small room, perplexed to know just what word he would send. If Ellis was not found inside of another twenty- four hours the searchers would be returning to their work and the peak of the danger would be passed. “When do you go back to him?” “Tonight. After it is dark.” “See me before you go and I will have my talk ready. I can not think straight now. I will look for letters for him.” He was at the door when Goss shot after him— “Rabbit, who killed Skillings?” The hunter paused but made no reply. “Did your” Goss demanded. “No. <A white man killed him.” “Do you have any idea what white man?” “T know the man.” “Who is he?” “T have not said.” And with that the Indian passed through the doorway. DISGUSTED by the Indian’s ¥ reticence the gambler threw him- * self into a barrel-chair and grap- pled with the problem. Ellis’ flight had convicted him in the minds of a great majority of Oro’s citizens. The dis- covery of the bogus.script had inflamed the public against him as well as against the dead man. With no jails for housing the accused and with no patience for drawn-out hearings, let alone the entire lack of legal mechanism for conducting the same, the camp was bound to try, convict and execute, and have done with a disagreeable business as expeditiously as possible. Of course there was the chance of a speedy acquittal did Ellis return and stand his trial. Had it not been for the discovery of the counterfeit money Goss would have sent peremptory word for the Pilgrim to return. But now he would not assume that respon- sibility. The young man was foot-free, and _ doubtless the Indian was right in saying the affair would be forgotten before another season. ~To risk hanging for the privilege of remaining a few more weeks in the camp would be absurd. 115 ‘The gambler procured a sheet of paper and a pencil and attempted to compose a message. After ten minutes of false starts he threw down the pencil and tore up the paper. He would send Ellis some money and a good revolver, but as to advice he knew not what to write. He had a notion of smuggling him into Whip King’s east- bound wagon train, but he first must have Whip King’s permission. Even with that secured there was no knowing when Whip King would start East, or from what point. Obviously the thing to do was to hunt up his friend and ask his advice and help. He believed Ellis would be safe in any of the northern camps, now that men were cleaning up their claims and preparing to join a homeward-bound outfit, or planning to spend the winter in Denver or other towns. The season was too late for much travel back and forth between the. camps. “But he’d have to go to the towns soon. even if he goes now to a camp,” he mused, “So he might as well go to town now as later. But what town? Whip King shall name it. Best way would be to send him back East where he belongs.” Goss’ calling made him selfish. He could easily spend his winnings, or give them away; but to mortgage his time and en- deavors came a bit hard. Yet he genuinely desired to help the likable young fugitive. He gave up the idea of sleep and decided to find Whip King and ask his advice. Cached in the floor under his couch was a re- serve fund of two thousand dollars in seript and gold. He intended to send Ellis a hun- dred of this. He carefully brushed his sleek hair and belted a gun on his hip and slipped another, the one he would give to Ellis, into a holster under his left arm. He would write his. letter from the Miner’s Home after talking with his frierid, the freighter. As he did not plan to return to the hut before meeting the Rabbit, he dropped on his knees by the couch and started to tap his cache for a hundred dollars. The door flew open, and, still squatting on his heels, he spun about, the belt-gun drawn and cocked. Whip King promptly stuck up his hands. ‘“‘What the ——!” impatiently exclaimed Goss. “Your manners are bad or my nerves are ragged.” And in disgust at his gun display he tossed the weapon on the couch and Gomicbooks.co