Adventure Magazine Cover — page 134: what you’re looking at

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

without gills. __ “Holee henhawks!” gasps Dirty. have we here?” Aye stay.” = As we walks up to the front the flap ae opens, and out comes the head of an in- human being. This face is so classified, cause no human being could have so much hair on its face and still breathe—not “Who “Aye am de ship-hoorder,”’ comes from a hole in the hair. “Bale of hay from Sweden!” gasps Dirty, and the hair opens again. “Aye am de ship-hoorder.”’ “What a dugout for dandruff!” says I. “Yah! Who are you fallers?’’ “Your successors,” says I. “You can tie up your war-sack and pilgrim.” “Haw?” He seems to think it over, and shakes his head. “Aye tank Aye stay. Aye am de ship-hoorder.”’ “You don’t need to classify yourself,” grins Dirty. “Nature tagged you. Us two are going to dry-nurse this bunch of animated socks and underwear, so you might as well kiss ’em a fond fare-thee- well.” The hairy one shakes his head, and ee at us out of a pair of little eyes. “He say to me, ‘O-o-o-laf, I gif you twanity dollar month.’ He say dat an’ Aye stay for onemonth. Fifteen day Aye stay today.” “This has been a long day for you, Olaf,” agrees Dirty. “Ike, do you get that jargon?” “Sure. Alphabetical or Scenery prom- ised him twenty a month, and today makes fifteen days he has reigned. “ “No rain,” says Olaf. “Dry as ——! Das iss my yob. He ducked back under the tent, and a second later he sticks his head out again, and beside that bunch of hair is the muzzle of a rifle. “Aye tank Aye stay,” he announces, and ducks inside again. “Defied by a barber-boycotter,” grunts Dirty. ‘Are we bluffed, Ike?” “Not from my point of view,” says I. "You take one side and I’ll take the other.” There was four guy-ropes on each side, and it just took four kicks per each to make that tent unsupporting, and the poor old thing comes down upon Olaf. Then me and Dirty assumes reclining po- sitions, while Olaf wastes a few cartridges, Then he emerges from a hole in the wreck, in time to be mounted by Dirty Shirt, who rode that shepherd to the queen’s taste. Olaf pitched considerable, but gave it up, and seemed receptive to civilized argument. “Still think you'll stay?” asks Dirty. “Val, Aye go pretty soon but Aye coom back now,” pants Olaf, pawing the alkali out of his whiskers. “Aye boost some- Cig “You. talk like you had,” admits Dirty. “Aye coom back—yah! Aye get de law.” “Yeah?” says Dirty. “Look at us, shepherd. We’re the law. Sabe?” He looks at us, and his whiskers seem a heap agitated. “VYou—are—de—law?” he asks, delib- erate-like. “You are looking at it,” grins Dirty. “How does she look?” “Val—” he hitches up his rope belt, and picks up his war-sack—“val, Aye can say dis mooch: Yorge Hokansen hay say to me, ‘O-o-olaf, das country has too mooch bum law and no yustice!’ Yorge iss smart— you bet.” And me and Dirty stood there” and watched the Hairy One fade out over the hills towards Silver Bend. “Tt hope he forgets us before he loads up on alcohol,” says Dirty. “I hate to chase even a shepherd off his job, but I reckon we're sort of shepherds-in-law, Ike, and we ain’t to blame. Let’s in- ventory the grub.”’ In the grub-box is one can of milk, one can of corn, a little coffee and a quart of raw alcohol: Dirty nods over the assortment. “That shepherd was good for fifteen days more, Ike, but the law sure is going to suffer internally. Let’s put up the tent.” Olaf left too soon to enjoy the rain. She came down plentiful and awful, and demonstrated to us that red flannel ain’t noways water-proof. When the morning came we peers out into a wet world, and tries to dry out enough tobacco to make asmoke. Then cometh a interruption from without: “Say, you lousy, slew-footed, blat-headed sheep-herder, come out here!’’ — calling you, Dirty,” says I. ot me, Ike. sates has been Ste Beane See Ree ae