Adventure Magazine Cover, June 20, 1925 — page 108: what you’re looking at

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

fF gO that this would not do yet. She would be able to flounder through the snow for a while and he needed her. She could carry his remaining supply of meat for a while, to say nothing of the gold dust, and that one bullet might yet mean life or death to him. Then, for three days more Alex tramped his way through the snow, and marveled that the intrepid old mule was able to follow him. At times the going was comparatively easy for him where the crust was strong enough to hold him up, but it would never bear Lisbeth’s weight; indeed, it hampered her at every step. They encountered drifts which it was im- possible for her to fight her way through. When she had plunged until she could go no longer she would lay on her side and look at Alex with a gaze of calm confidence. And with an oath, and sometimes with tears of desperation in his eyes he would set to work tramping down the drift until finally there would be a trail upon which she could wal- low through. Alex was eating discreetly and retaining his strength, but they seldom encountered anything that Lisbeth could feed on. Daily her master could see her growing weaker, but there seenfed no end to her stamina. Long before this a younger animal would have quit, he knew, just as, perhaps, would a younger man in his shoes. It was the pa- tience and experience of age that was carry- ing them both through. Once he tested her with a piece of roasted venison, but she seemed to have forgotten the knack of eating meat which she had acquired so long ago. Knowing how very much he needed it him- self he did not insist. They suddenly broke out of the moun- tains on to the floor of the desert, but Alex was doomed to disappointment. Where he had expected to find but little snow there was two feet on the level and crusted hard. Yet it was not quite strong enough to bear Lisbeth’s weight. Now it seemed was the time to kill her, but still he could not bring himself to do it. He still had food, and as long as,she was able to travel at all he meant to stay with her. They were three days reaching Snake River. Lisbeth had somehow managed to keep herself alive by eating the tops of the sage, and at night by pawing through the snow occasionally foraged a few mouthfuls of bunch grass. Alex’s food supply .was again exhausted. Adventure They had reached the main Montana freight road, but Cheney knew only too well that the freighters were not accustomed to traversing its pitiless length in the winter time. His best bet was that he might en- counter some belated traveler like himself. But he saw at once that there had been no one over the road since the storm. There was one chance in a hundred that some one might overtake him, but the men most likely to do that were the very outlaws he had recently escaped from. He was reasonably sure that the bandits would not dare to return to Timber City. Neither was it likely that they would turn north and try to buck the deep snows over the Continental Divide. This left them one of two resources. They must either turn south on the road he was on, or else make for some secret outlaw hang-out in the vicinity. If they did turn south he knew that, excepting for some unusual adversity, they would soon be along, for though their route would be much longer than the one he had taken they would make much better time. Their horses would be fresher and stronger, and trail breaking would not be so difficult for them since they could take turns in the lead. Alex was brought face to face with the stern necessity of making better time. If the outlaws were on his trail Lisbeth’s trail through the broken crust would lay an easy course for them to follow, and he could no longer hope for the old white mule to keep ahead of such overwhelming odds. Even if not pursued by the outlaws he knew that he could no longer afford to be held back by Lisbeth for whom the going became worse with each successive mile. The stern line of necessity to which he knew he should closely hew was plainly marked. He was out of provisions. He had but one bullet left, and a sharp knife. He ought to slit Lisbeth’s old white throat, cook and eat part of her carcass, and carry with him as much as he could manage on his improvised snowshoes. If the crust held he could thus, without doubt, make it through to Fort Hall at any rate. Other- wise he faced a fair assurance of starvation, for though he had one bullet left he had not sighted game of any description since he had struck the desert. “Well,” he grumbled into his beard, ‘“‘if it has t’ be it has t’ be, but I can’t do it to- night. ll wait till mornin’.”’ comiclbool CO