Adventure Magazine Cover, February 3, 1921 — page 133: what you’re looking at

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

Hooley’s Hen Hastener worry me!” “Bill, you get into your duds and sneak while the sneakin’s good!” “T’m all right here, Watty. Just need a rest. “Uncle Jim and Aunt Hattie Meigs said I just needed a long rest:” “You bet they did, Bill—they’d like you to get a good, long rest in some State *n- stitution if they can get Freihut and some other sharps to——’”’ ‘Don’t make me laugh, Watty. It’ll be asymptom. Everything a guy does in here is a symptom,” “Especially if he’s got money.” — Watty slipped a comforting arm about Bill’s big shoulders. *“Now, come, you terrier! here!” = “Tf I could just see ’em,’’ moaned Bill weakly. “Slive an’ you an’ Petey an’ one good old-time bust-up, an’ I'd get my punch back again!”’ Watty was gently disentangling Bill’s legs from the bedding. He warped him around on the springs. Bill sat up in loud, silken- striped pajamas and scratched his ear worriedly. “The attendant will be shovin’ his face in here, Watty, in a mimute, just to see if I’m sleepin’ well.”’ “Get up! Kick out! All the matter with you is they been shootin’ you full of some kind of hop and fresh air and beautiful thoughts. What you need, Bill, is dense, after-midnight, desperately polluted atmos- The gang’s all phere, full of good tobacco smoke and the _ gang grinnin’ at you.” “Vep. If I could only—Say, what’s that, Watty? I hear a trombone.” “Hey?” Watty clutched anxiously after Bill, who had suddenly thrust his head out the window. “For —— sake, Bill, don’t go dippy again!” “Boola boola!” yelled Bill, a roar that rattled through every private room in rest cottage number two of the good doctor’s establishment. “Boola boola! Boola boola.” : “For the love of Hooley——” “Look at ’em, Watty, turnin’ in the drive, red fire: and Boo——”’ Through the leafy elms young Mr. Watts- Wright caught one gleam of gilded chariots. He saw a silk hat shining, and by it his own Leghorn straw planted firmly on the head of Mr. Fraley; while standing behind them, dancing joyously before a background of battered trombones, French horns and clari- lunatics—Boola — boola! 127 nets shaking syncopatingly, were Slive and ~ Petey. And behind this equipage, all lighted by the black-faced torch-bearers strode a moth-eaten, undersized elephant, a skinny giraffe, three dilapidated ostriches and a cage of monkeys. shrieked Wright, tearing his hair. fools find that outfit?” “This way out!” Dippy McGuire was roaring down the corridor. Two attendants came rushing from the stairs. One laid hands on Bill’s Oriental pajama sleeve and was hurled head- long into his fellow. “Boola boola!”’ : The attendants seized upon young Mr. Watts-Wright, skurrying after Bill’s mighty rush such as made the telling touchdown against Harvard in 1912. Then they flung him aside. | “Tt’s that cheap Hooley nut! Guire, the big-money guy!” Bill McGuire hurdled over a @otty old gentleman who staggered out of his cham- ber; upset two chattering dames who had ventured on the staircase, encountered the corpulent good Doctor Freihut at the front door, shoved him through the stained glass; and when Mr. Watts-Wright reached the lawn he saw Bill climbing on the band- wagon. ‘The gleam of Bill’s silken robe de nuit was over the lesser figures as he beat time for the jazz-men. : “They aren’t stopping!” panted young Mr. Watts-Wright, and tore after the pro-’ cession which was encircling the buildings and trailing off on the other drive. He dodged in between the Morel trained os- triches; and one glance back showed the porch ‘light on, maddened night-attendants struggling with a swarm of yelling patients in the broken doorway, and good Doctor Fréihut sitting weakly on the top step, holding his ears. “Watty, old scout! “Tt ain’t Watty! Morel!” = “Watty all diked up like a nut! And Bill—Say, Slive, who’n have we got up’n the front seat there?”’ | Petey grabbed the figure in front of him. “Where do we go from here?” chuckled Morel, reining his gaily caparisoned -four. “Why, Watty, where——”’ “Oh, yeh,” rejomed Mr. Fraley, sepul- chrally. ‘“Hooley’s right. It can be done.” 6é \?? young Mr. Watts- ‘Where did the Get Mc- Watty!” Watty’s up there with COmmicloooks (C@