Adventure Magazine Cover, June 20, 1925 — page 130: what you’re looking at

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

I1t2 dark complexion made him an outstanding figure even among those who allowed their hair to grow and preferred buckskin to woolen. Contrary to popular belief this pictur- esque mixed-blood was a mulatto and not of Indian-white descent. Clinging to his arm was his Mexican wife, a tiny creature to whom, with a flourish, he was presenting an old mountain man. He addressed her as Madame Beckwourth. ‘The mountainman was William McGaa, known to Beckwourth and old-time trappers as Jack Jones, who was eating his heart out because the street named after him had been rechristened after Holladay. Madame Beckwourth was forgotten as the two men began reminiscing volubly, and unconsciously duplicating their spoken speech with the sign language of the Plains — Indians. ‘Tie their hands and they couldn’t talk,” murmured Whip King over Goss’ shoulder. ‘“‘Makes me feel sort of homesick to see so many outfits pulling out and me left here. T’ll soon be forgetting how to crack my whip.” . ‘Just the man J want to talk with,” softly exclaimed Goss. ‘Best of luck we’ve come together again.” “Luck, nothing! I’ve been trailing you ever since you quit the hotel. Something happened?” ~ “The Singing Pilgrim’s sister has arrived at the Broadwell House,” groaned Goss. “Somebody must meet her and tell her something.” “Good land! But that sounds sort of bad! Arrived out with no one expecting her,” mumbled Whip King. “But your talk sounds hazy. Somebody tell her some- thing! Who knows what’s to be told her? Why did she come out here? And who’s to tell her? And tell her what?” “T pass,” surrendered Goss gloomily. “Not a card in my hand nor an idea in my head. But if a stranger must call on her to explain, you’re the man. J don’t know what you can say.” ~ “No, siree! PI tackle a grizzly with my old whip. See here, Nathan. You happen round up there. She'll be asking ques- tions. You chip in and tell her.” “What?” snarled Goss. ‘Well, whatever seems to be best.”’ ‘‘Ellis is the one to talk to his sister,’’ con- tinued Goss. “I believe he is still in town. Adventure I know he was here. You must help me find him.” - “Like hunting for a jackknife I once lost on Green River,” grumbled Whip King. “But let’s be looking. I'll round up lodging houses. You look in stores. He may be working.” Depending largely upon luck the two separated. Ellis was not known in Denver; and had he been his searchers would not have risked asking about him by name. Whip King had selected the more tedious part of the hunt. The gambler could enter a store and glance at the employees and be done with the place. The wagon train boss could only loiter about doorways and ob- serve the tenants entering and leaving. He could ask no questions. After several hours of this unsatisfactory work Whip King | started back to the Broadwell House, hoping: that Goss had been more successful. On the way he met United States Marshal Hunt. The marshal had just left the jail on Larimer street near E. After shaking hands and exchanging greetings the marshal in- formed: . “We have a bloody, red-handed murderer in there and there’s a chance of his going free. Couple of years ago we’d hung him from the Cherry creek bridge and gone home to supper. But the court can’t convict un- less there’s sufficient evidence. When Mar- shal Farnham brought him in there was every prospect of a hanging. Farnham worked up the case. Had two witnesses on tap who could have settled Leaper’s hash. That’s his name, Jonathan Leaper. Now we're in a fine stew. One witness, tied toa mule and turned loose in the mountains by Leaper, has died from the shock of his wild ride. United States Attorney Sam Brown says he can’t go to trial without some evi- dence.”’ “You spoke of two witnesses,’ reminded Whip King. “I’ve heard queer yarns about: Leaper. But nothing you could hang your hat on. Worked alone and lived alone. No woman in his life to give him away.” “The other witness was a young man. ‘Supposed to come in with Farnham. They separated at the Salt Works and were to meet at Fair Play. Young man plumb dis- appeared. That leaves’ Brown high and dry. He has a murderer but no witnesses.” “Hard luck. S’pose you’re hunting for the missing witness.” “We don’t even know he ever made COMmiclboookks.CO