Adventure Magazine Cover — page 133: what you’re looking at

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

Sie tenis fi ‘or Sa nothing at all to me. I sure am con- temptuous of all things pertaining to wool.” “Me, I votes against anything that blats,” says I. “T don’t love ’em!”’ snaps Magpie. “Don’t see me packing no sheep-dip to alleviate their sufferings, do you?” We don’t seem to, so we all sets there, humped over in the sun. After while Magpie clears his throat. _ “ Alphabetical’ Allen and ‘Scenery’ Sims own three thousand woollies,” says he. “Scenery was a silent pardner, being as he’s a cow-man, which hates sheep. Alphy gets Scenery to unhook a thousand dol- lars’ to buy some fancy stock. Sabe? Well, Alphy bought ’em—red, white and blue ones, in stacks, the same of which ain’t productive none to speak about. “Scenery chides Alphy to the extent that Alphy gets disgruntled and wishes to sepa- rate the herd, fifty-fifty, without consider- ing the thousand he lost over the green cloth. Alphy contends that him and Scen- ery has agreed to suffer gains and losses together, and furthermore that he lost a lot of his own money at the same sitting, the same of which makes them feller sufferers. “Such a open declaration causes some smoke and a little noise in Piperock, but neither of them gets shot up enough for us to declare a holiday. Scenery plasters a attachment on the herd, and then Alphy limps to Judge Steele’s wickiup and prays for a receiver. “Being as I’m the sheriff I has to serve said attachment, and also being as I’m a danged fool I’m appointed as the receiver. The county didn’t elect me to herd sheep, gents. Over on the other side of that hill is the sheep. Somewhere over there is the tent. All very simple.” Magpie fusses with his mustache for a moment and then gets to his feet. He slaps our lead burro with his hat, and hitches up his belt. “Come on, mules! “Where to, feller?”’ asks Dirty. is our burros, Magpie.” “You won’t need ’em,’”’ says he, weary- like, ‘so ’ll take ’em home for you. All I ask is this: Take care of the sheep.” “Sheep?” I yells. *S-h-e-e-p,” he spells, counting the let- Hump yourselves!” “Them ) ters on the fingers of his left hand with the barrel of the gun in his right. “Just sheep, Ike. Recp<-your teat vendoru ak blats Dirty, excited- like. “Explain yourself, feller.” ‘“You—” Magpie points at Dirty— “are the receiver. Sabe? 1 hereby makes you deputy receiver of them sheep, and I hon- ors Ike by making him deputy attacher. Ike always was attached to sheep. May the Lord have a little~ mercy on your souls, and—don’t lose any sheep. Come on, canaries.” Me and Dirty sets there like a pair of mummies and watches that forlorn-look- ing hombre herd our long-eared rolling- stock across the hills. Dirty jerks a rock at a sand-lizard, and yanks his hat down over his ears. We glares at each other ~ for a moment. “Shepherd!” hisses Dirty. attacher!”’ “Ditto!” I hisses back at him. sheep-receptacle!”’ “You sheep- “Vou or \7a Ik THERE ever was an age when '2 “@ Jackrabbits spoke with tin-whistle voices Scenery Sims was a throw- back to that period. Him and Alpha- betical Allen are two things, the same of which the dictionary designates as in- animate objects. If you can imagine a pair of ciphers with the rims rubbed out— you’ve got my opinion of them two hom- bres to a gnat’s eyebrow. “T’m going to kill Magpie Simpkins some day,” says Dirty, mean-like. “Uh-huh,” says I. “That sounds like you, Dirty. You’re always going to kill somebody the day after. You think tooslow.” We sets there a while longer, and then Dirty yawns. “Might as well find ’ em, I reckon. You attach ’em and I’ll do the receiving, Ike.”’ We pokes over the ridge, and after go- ing about a mile we hears the voices of lamblets, and then we sees the teepee, which we deciphers to be the sheep-camp. In her callow youth she might have been a tent, but the wear and tear of sheeping existence has put her in the sere and yaller leaf, with a touch of color, where some- body’s red-flannel shirt has patched up a hole in one side. “Well,” says Dirty, “she ain’t much, but it’s home, Ike.” “Tt is ever so humble,” I agrees, and we slid down to it. ' ees eo mire Soe —— EE ee ee = =