Adventure Magazine Cover — page 51: what you’re looking at

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

The Lucky Crash = yet had struck the basic idea of the new carburetor. Sergeant Cary, a lanky middle-aged me- chanical genius had once been a cow- puncher and had worked for a brief time on the Circle Eight ranch owned by Mac- Dowell senior. A queer friendship had sprung up between them, and so it was natural that the two should work out the new carburetor to- gether; Cary doing practically all the de- signing and mechanical work but with Mac- Dowell’s idea as the indispensable founda- tion. . “Tt’s a wonder, too, gentlemen—I saw a model run on the blocks, with the old model, on gas that had been diluted twenty per cent. with water,” said the captain. ‘There are practically no moving parts, and there is almost no chance of it ceasing to function. I believe the model they have about completed will be O. K. in every re- spect and they can go ahead on definite plans for patenting and promoting it.”’ The three men walked down the edge of the airdrome past the hangars on the eastern side. From a window in one end of the han- gar farthest from the headquarters building and barracks a light shone. This was the machine-shop where MacDowell and Cary had been working every evening for two weeks. It waza warm, starry Southern night and the Chicagoan inhaled luxuriously. ‘if I don’t envy you, Ed,” he said to his brother, the colonel. ‘I—Good ——!”’ He had fallen in a heap over the body of a man lying in the deep gloom of the hangar corner. Captain Kennard and the colonel stooped with one accord and the captain struck a match. “Tex MacDowell!” he said blankly. With swiftly capable hands he tore open shirt.and underwear and pressed his ear to the flyer’s chest. “Heart’s going all right,” he said crisply. “Colonel, will you mind giving me a hand so we can carry him over to that water faucet?” ays THE ‘three men carried the tall Ban form to the water faucet at the.side of the end hangar. The moonlight was sufficient to show a swelling lump on MacDowell’s head. A few dashes of water and some rapid wrist-chafing by the colonel and his brother had speedy effect. Tex opened his eyes languidly. 45 He stared wonderingly at the three anx- ious faces bending over him. Then his characteristic smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Good evening, colonel,” he drawled. “TI seem to have run into something.” He touched the bruise gingerly, and sat up. “What happened?” demanded Colonel Brewster bruskly. “Sergeant Cary and I were working in the machine-shop when some soldier—I didn’t notices who it was—came in and said there was a man outside who wanted to see me. J came out and the soldier led me over here. A sort of small man was standing in the shade of the hangar here and when I came up he just soaked me and that’s all there is— there isn’t any more.” “You don’t suppose—” began the captain slowly. Tex suddenly sprang to his feet. ‘The carburetor!” he exclaimed. With- out another word to the others, who fol- lowed in his footsteps, the tall flyer ran for the lighted window on the end of the last hangar. Forgetful of rank and dignity the puffing colonel and his portly, excited brother charged into the machine-shop at the heels of the airmen. Sergeant Cary, tall and gaunt, was swaying dizzily, supporting him- self by leaning against a lathe. “What happened to you, Cary?” de- manded Tex. The leathery face of Cary essayed a crooked grin as the sergeant looked at the lump decorating the side of MacDowell’s head. “About what happened to you, I guess, lieutenant,” he replied. ‘The last I remem- ber I was workin’ on the bench there when something hit me.”’ Tex and Captain Kennard looked around the small shop, littered with tools and ma- chines, and then their eyes met. “Both models of the carburetor are gone, captain, and what few written estimates we had,” said Tex softly. His clean-cut face was curiously older than it had been a few moments before, as he questioned Cary. “T didn’t see anybody—he must have sneaked up behind me,” was the sergeant’s reply to MacDowell’s question. ‘The elec- tric motor was running and would have covered the noise.”’ “Well, let’s get busy,” snapped the captain. COMMICMOOOKS (E@)