Adventure Magazine Cover — page 139: what you’re looking at

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

to investigate our soicedee Dirty Shirt added— “Cook anything you see, ‘cause my big insides are eating up the little ones.” He did not use the word “insides,” but _its vulgar equivalent. “Scare up a biscuit?” asked Middleton. “How does one scare a biscuit?” “Build a fire in the stove,” said Dirty Shirt. “All you have to do is touch a match to the kindling, as the fire is all set. Then we’ll show you the next step.” I went inside the tent, knelt beside the stove and scratched a match. The sticks of wood over the kindling caught my eye. I removed one as [ touched the match. One must betray ignorance to acquire knowledge, so I car- ried one out to them. “Pardon me,” said I, “but is this some new preparation to combat the scarcity of fuel?”’» , Dirty Shirt glanced at the stick, then at the smoke coming out of the small stove- pipe, and then he and Ike grasped their hats in their hands and dashed away. It really was ludicrous. “Come on, you —— fools!” cried Ike without stopping to explain. “What an amazing thing to do!” - exclaimed Middleton. ‘‘Why in the world are they ——” It is of course ridiculous to say that the world came to an end before Middleton’s question had been propounded, but that is what seemed tohappen. The earth seemed to vomit dust, flame and smoke, and I seemed to feel myself being carried away. Ages later I awoke. I turned my head, and then said to myself— “Pettingill, you have been knocked topsy-turvy.” I really had. I seemed to be trying to stand on my head in wet clay, although in reality I found that I was reclining, head down, on the side of a bank of what might be termed an abandoned water-course. Modesty forbids that I tell what clothing is missing from my person. I managed to regain my natural poise, and turned ‘sufficiently to allow my feet to slide down. Near me is a section of the tent con- taining the red-flannel patch, and as I take stock of my surroundings that patch _ seemed to loosen, and from out through the aperture emerges the head of = lear Middleton. “My dear fellow, are you ‘all “right?” me I asked. He looked at me in a dazed sort of a way, and then spat out—along with a mouthful of clay: “Go to ! What do you think this is—a ladies’ cemetery?” I could readily see that he was speak- ing from his subconscious mind, quoting from Dirty Shirt’s reply-to me. He got to his feet, not without visible effort, and we both looked at Dirty Shirt and Ike. Their gaze seemed inquiring, but I was as much at sea as they. “We are still alive, as you may see,” I volunteered. “Takes a lot of ceaaie to kill a shep- herd,” nodded Dirty. ° “Dynamite?” asked Middleton. “A powerful explosive?” “Concentrated ——,” nodded Dirty. “Regular old bustem quick. Some son-of- a-goat loaded the stove on us. Must ’a’ been several sticks.” “Five, I believe,” I replied. “Here is the sixth.” I opened my hand and showed them a mass of what appeared to be fine sawdust and grease. “My ——!” cried Dirty, not profanely. “The old dictionary-digger choked that stick toa mush! Don’t drop it!” = HIS order came too late. I sud- (i 4) denly realized what I was doing— 2 what I had in my hands—and I cast it down as a deadly thing. Dirty and Ike seemed to sigh with relief, and then Dirty said: “Lord, I ain’t got much ae I don’t sabe nothing about Jonah and the Ark, but I sure hands up thanks to who- ever is to blame for blocking the trigger of that thing. Amen.” “Have you any special creed or religious affiliations?” asked Middleton. “No.” Dirty Shirt shook his head. “Not yet, but if you two are going to hang around this range for any length of time, I’m going to join something—that’s a dead cinch.” “There was a cap in that stick, Dirty,” said Ike. “Wonder it didn’t go.” “Uh-huh,” grunted Dirty. ‘“There’s nes that protects drunks and idiots, aE “Yes, Dirty, oe right. Even them ~ comic