Judge — September 1937 — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

RODEO NIGHT HE little town was filled with noise and color. All the streets were lined with automobiles. Horses, coming from the show, kicked up heavy dust into the faces of pedestrians. The rodeo was just over. The saloons were already filled, the roulette.tables, crowded. jimmy and I went into the Frontier Saloon run by a friend, Pat Dixon. He was there, looking a little fatter, his face shining with perspiration, and his hat on the back of his head. Still prominent on his ample stomach, was his Elk insignia. The air was thick and blue with smoke, but outside it had grown dark and cool. Jimmy and I went out for a breath of air and saw the first, faint stars. The air was cool and sweet and the acrid dust was settled. It was strange, the con- trast between the noise and lights of the town, and the quiet of the dark buttes. Back in the saloon again, Jimmy asked if I was going to the dance. “Sure,” I said. He left me for a moment, and a pleas- ant drunken boy came up and introduced himself. He was pleased when he found I was a Western girl, said he had a job with the CO ranch over the Hill, that he had been sent West by his parents after having been kicked out of Yale. l ‘Z. Nj f NY His story was interrupted by an out- break on the part of Pat's brother, George. George was drunk and kept saying that there was nothing he hated more than dudes and mormons. “Dudelets!"” George snorted. ‘This was a fine country until the damn dude- lets got in. Dirty Mormon carrot-eaters!”” Pat's wife, Grace, a pretty, ladylike wom- an, was apologizing to everyone for George's behaviour and the horrid words he was using. Suddenly, I saw Grace standing on a chair. She was waving a beer bottle above George's head and yelling: “Well, if no lousy dumbbell is going to crown the 1 will!” There was a pause, and then all at once the fight seemed to be over. Every- one returned to their drinking and gam- bling as though there had never been the slightest disturbance anywhere. Jimmy and I set off to the dance hall about ten. This was called a night club by the new pro] rietor, but a plain dance hall it remained. While Jim was getting a ribbon to pin on his collar, proving he had paid his entrance dollar, I checked my coat. Ladies came in free. “You know, Bill, you just can’t start ’em too early.” There was a crowd at the dance. The orchestra, the “Rocky Mountain Mis. chief-Makers,” made good music. Whenever we tired of ordinary danc- ing we would do a St. Louis or Idaho stomp, then lean out of the big windows and smoke and rest. Almost everyone had some trick of dancing, shagging and stomping, so com. pics that I'm sure it took years to learn. ere were all kinds of costumes, rang- ing from Sears and Roebuck evening dresses to overalls. The dudes, girl and boy, were anxious to look like cowboys, so wore overalls and bright shirts. The Western men wore Pendleton pants or store clothes; the girls, dresses. In the pauses, the dancers promenad- ed, arm in arm, exuberant men letting out whoops just for the pleasure of mak- ing a noise. At the end of the dance, the men took their ladies to a seat, thanked them and left. There was no autting in except among the dudes. It wasn’t un- derstood. Presently Jimmy asked: “How about going down to Pat's for coffee and then home?" “Sure!” I said. “Let's go.” At the saloon, the crowd had thinned, but the music was still going. I noticed a large dude, quite drunk, at the bar. Next to him were two men who might have been Idaho sheepherders. Every time the dude lifted his drink, one of them would jog his elbow and spill a little liquor. Then both sheepherders would laugh. The dude would turn and give them a magnificent stare but said nothing. After about ten jogs, a lean, fierce-looking cowboy pushed through the crowd, said something to the two so that they turned around to look at him, and then, with no apparent effort, knocked them both out. After that he went off. The dude realized shortly that he was no longer being annoyed, and then he saw the two lying on the floor. He seemed immensely pleased, and, walking around them, began a kind of ‘abel chant of victory. “You see what happens to le I don't like! Nobody in get fresh with me! Next time you won't pick on a man like me.” “It's three-thirty,” said Jimmy. “My Lord,” T tid, We won't get home till breakfast time.” We had coffee with hamburgers, on- ions and all, then got into the car and started off. I had on a heavy coat, scarf, and gloves, but I was bitter cold. I gave Jim one of my gloves, as his driving hand was icy. He tucked the other under my shoulder. The sun was coming up when we hit the flats. You could see the tops of the mountains, rising from the mist. They were covered with new snow, that turned pink just before the sun really red. “And this is August,” said Jimmy. —JuLia BLEECKER. Judge comicbooks.com