Adventure, July 1, 1928 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

THE DUKE AND THE DUCATS 14 [ow struck the main trail—it could“not be called a road—half a mile from the field. It was choked with traffic of all descriptions. The two lines moved at a snail’s pace, except for lone riders who galloped through the mesquite. The ruts were often a foot deep. Wagons and trucks laden with pipe and other equipment; passenger cars carrying scouts, drillers, and mechanics; tool pushers; food trucks—all were part of the line. At intervals of a few hundred yards other roads branched off to wells or prospective wells on either side. There were many vehicles stuck in the sand. There was an effect of mighty effort and sweaty industry. The fact that the swift. Texas darkness had fallen seemed to make no difference to the throng of workers. Before the night was over the flyers were to make certain of the fact that work in the Verona field went on twenty-four hours a day. “We don’t seem to be too popular,” Daly observed. “‘Right you are,” agreed Tex as they ap- proached the town. “Listen to that bozo.” : One of a group of men riding a small truck had called tauntingly— “The reformers are with us!” Many of the curious glances they re- ceived were far from friendly. Some- times what amounted to insults were hurled at them from the protection of darkness. “These roughnecks don’t want their fun spoiled,” Daly commented. “They think we're the law.” As’ they came into the outskirts of the town the feeling grew in strength. On each side of the road solid lines of pedes- trians were moving toward town be- tween lines of tents and shacks. The two flyers were conspicuous, and ‘even the contained Daly felt self-conscious as they became the center of attention. “Took at the Boy Scouts!” was a favorite remark from the oil spotted, crudely dressed men on either side, and their passage down the street became a long ordeal. Before it was over Tex had a dangerous glint in his eye, and Daly himself was tightlipped and ready for trouble. “They haven’t even got electric lights in most places yet,” Tex observed as they turned into the main street. “Good Lord, what a sight!” And Daly agreed with him. Flaring torches made the street as light as day, and flickering shadows in the background lent it an air of spookiness. The street was solid with slow moving traffic, the roadbed a rough sea of ruts and sandy bogs. Four lines of traffic barely moved. Tents alternated with unpainted tem- porary buildings, and there were dozens of other structures on which work was progressing feverishly. And everywhere there were men—sliding between cars, choking the sidewalks, so thick that there was scarcely room for their feet. From either side there came music of every known variety—hand organ, mechanical pianos, personally operated violins and guitars, and a few portable organs. “Most of these places are dives, it looks to me,” observed Tex. “Look at that place!” It was a huge frame structure, entirely open on the street side. Inside it a huge bar extended all along the right hand side, and ten bartenders were busy attending to the mob which fought to get a place close to the counter. A good many tables occupied the remainder of the front part of the building, and there were quite a few women, plainly hostesses, helping oil men to spend their money. In the rear was a small dance floor. Taunts, some humorous and others nasty, were hurled continuously at the flyers. It was a seething tent city, a young, raw giant bellowing to the night sky. Daly felt a sense of surging life in it, and his heart beat faster. Anything could happen there. Drunkenness, a wild abandon were in the very air. The crowds which he could look down upon included every type of man, from dirty roughneck to well dressed big company scout, and a sprinkling of women. “Every Mexican gold digger from comicloooks.com