Adventure Magazine Cover — page 129: what you’re looking at

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

The Man-Eater him in he could spread his-pinions and fly to the'sun. John remembered the incident of the handkerchief and it was always in evidence. It would be flaunted in his face at times ‘until his very heart caught fire at the sight of it. The night’ before,the battle John and Uncle Mose sat on a chunk near the wood-pile and Uncle Mose received his instructions. The old man went to sleep that night with John’s last message ringing “In his ears: “Whatever happens, don’t forget your tactics! Remember, these are Barnyard rules and Hash can’t help himself. Bull- fighters do the same thing. It is the only way to get him to break from you. If he turns his back on The General he is whipped but after he is warméd up he won’t think of anything but what he’s there for. Don’t smother him between pitting. He don’t want to be petted. Just leave the fight to him!” ais IT WAS a record-breaking crowd 2. that gathered in the little grove at the foot of Bee Rock. From the old-time slave who had followed his master to the war and bled for a cause now obso- lete, to the fresh young buck and dusky belle of the” new generation, they were there. . Everything to gladden the heart or tempt the appetite was in evidence and the graceful limbs of the hackberry-trees that formed the little grove never sheltered a happier crowd of delighted darkies. All the entertainment was not free. The parson was out for the money, and in a good cause he was willing to stretch a point to garner the coin. Perhaps the most prominent figure on the grounds was Brother Hash Henderson” of Memphis. His gaudy clothes of the most extravagant cut spoke of affluence. Besides, he was up in all the latest dances, was not a laggard in love and was to be the hero of the principal event of the day. He had already taken credit for the victory. According to his belief, he and not Old Calomel or ‘The General was to be the central] figure in the great event. When Uncle Mose removed the big bronze cock from his carrying-case he saw that he was even in a more furious rage than usual. The General had been crowing continually and Old Calomel realized that the supreme moment was at hand. To him 119 the world was welded into a league to hamper his desires. The restraining hand of: his trainer was a treaty that he longed to shatter. Uncle Mose soothed him as best he could, firmly and skilfully holding him so as to conserve every particle-of energy that might be needed in the battle soon tocome. Finally, with the aid of his helper, the gaffs were adjusted, and the great event was on. The General was what is known as “a talker.”’ With the unconscious egotism of the consistent winner he welcomed the opportunity that would add another trephy to his unbroken chain of victories. It was like the old days of the Baronne Cockpit back again, where thousands were freely wagered on the outcome. Hash was in his element. He had always believed that when nature placed the tinge of Africa upon his features a per- fectly lovely motion picture hero had been spoiled. Here was his chance to pose. Holding firmly to The General’s tail, he tossed him in the air, then ran him across the open space to the smooth and beaten spot that had been selected on the brim of Gum: Springs. Every move was for the benefit of the spectators; he was the central figure—a close-up to the camera of the public eye. Hash had been for years the assistant of the great “Chick” Worthington, and had absorbed enough of that grand feeder’s knowledge to know that he was fretting his cock unnecessarily but the negro temapera- ment could not resist the opportunity to grand-stand before his audience. Uncle Mose was envious of this pepular- ity, but curbed any display. While he growled at the lack of appreciation shown him, at the same time he knew that the foolisl antics of his opponent would hamper The General in a long battle where the weight of a feather or the waste of a particle of energy might influence the final result. Besides, while he knew that John would never be openly present to mingle with such a motley throng, years of association whispered that he would be wild to witness the battle and some unknown instinct told him that his master’s eye was following his every move. He glanced upward, but could see noth- ing. Up there on Bee Rock were many crevasses left by the quarrymen of a past generation, and in the lee of some broken 0\(0\(6) <S) com 3 (E@) LAL