Adventure Magazine Cover, October 10, 1921 — page 109: what you’re looking at

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

The Sign of the Oolah “Gilfish!”’ whispered Parson Tuttle, and stared puzzledly. Mr. Gilfish was fondly rubbing the eye of acoconut. Upon the brown, soiled sur- face there appeared a faint round scratch. “Oolah!”’ murmured Mr. Gilfish pleas- edly. “I guess I better get mine while the gettin’s good!’ Mr. Gilfish laid the coconut in a gunny- sack and went on with his obvious labor of love. Parson Dick mused a moment and then came nearer. “Ahem,” he put in gently, “goin’ to plant a nut farm, Mr. Gilfish?”’ ‘“Wha—say!’ Mr. Gilfish rattled around so hastily on the pile of coconuts that the sliding pyramid all but buried his gunny- sack. “Oh, it’s you, Dick!’’ He stood up grinning pleasantly. “I jest thought I’d look in at the bazaar fixin’s. Mighty int’restin’. Coconuts make you think 0’ bammy isles an’ monkeys chunkin’ ’em at you from the tree tops. Me, I ain’t nothin’ poetical like Kunnel Tunk, but I’m strong {’r the heathen.”’ “Oolah,” murmured Parson Tuttle mys- teriously. “That’s it. The kunnel wanted me to sorteh look over these coconuts, Dick—f’r the new lodge some o’ the old parties are gettin’ u « “Oolah!” repeated Parson Dick omi- nously. The silence after that made Mr. Gilfish distinctly nervous. He dusted his trousers and essayed more conversation about the Oriental Bazaar. The-one lone nut in his gunny-sack stuck up like a wart on a man’s nose. Not for worlds would Mr. Gilfish have claimed that coconut now. He turned his flashlight away from it and backed around to exhibit a sudden fervent interest in the mural scheme of the bazaar. “Well, say, just look at the palm trees an’ all. I reckon the wimmen must have slaved over this decoratin’—hey, parson?” ‘“Oolah—” whispered the parson sepul- chrally, and he moved on to the next booth. “Ts that your sack, Mr. Gilfish?”’ “Oh, no! ‘Shucks, somebody must have jest dropped it around! Hey—look at these old guns and swords. Well, by Swanny— this beats everythin’!” “Oolah,” said the Rev. Mr. Tuttle at the front door, holding it open, and looking gravely upon Mr. Gilfish. Plainly this was the way out. Mr. Gilfish took it. 99 “Well, I reckon I got here a little early,” protested Mr. Gilfish with a playful grin. ‘“‘The kunnel an’ me’ll drop in later, par- son!” ‘“Sure—eight o’clock the doors open,” assented Preacher Dick. ‘‘Good-evenin’, Mr. Gilfish—don’t let me detain you!” When he was quite sure that Mr. Gilfish had gone, Dick Tuttle lita lamp. He looked about the gaudy tout ensemble of the Arabian Bazaar. All there, just as he left it—even his palm-tree oasis in the corner with a striped tent evolved from four lounge covers loaned by the congregation, and with the white sands of the desert on the floor, was undisturbed. Only that heap of coconuts had to be arranged and Dick concluded that he him- self had better make a start. Out of the mysterious gunny-sack he dumped the lone nut that represented the labors of Deacon Gilfish for the heathen’s enlightenment. “Funny about Gilfish,”’ mused Preacher Dick, ‘‘he’s trailed me aroynd ever since I took these coconuts off the steamboat. Of course Colonel Tunk is free to cart away all the coconuts he wants for his new lodge meetin’, but this Gilfish hornin’ in He stopped and shook the coconut by his ear. A low, alluring Oriental seductiveness was'in that gurgle. As Gilfish had done the preacher listened, smelled, shook, and then he pecked away at the coconut’s eye. And presently he sat down on the heap of coco- nuts and sighed. He picked up another of the nuts and then another, and then he fell to gathering them and examining with sighs and murmurs. With his pocketknife he presently ex- tracted a small cork from one. The end of it was brown-stained and miolded so that not a crevice showed where it fitted — the coconut’s shell. Mr. Tuttle smelled in the aperture. He selected another and mused over the small round scratch on its eye. “Oolah,’”’ murmured the parson, and then locked both front and back doors. boa Mr. Gilfish in the dusky seclusion of the Maddox House veranda. ‘By Swanny!—it’ll bust up the Oolahs; it’ll bust up the church—it’ll make more fuss an’ scandal than this town ever saw; if Dick Tuttle peddles them coconuts out to the Baptists, and some ole lady cracks one “KUNNEL, you better hurry down there and do somethin’,” tpleaded COnmiclbooks Cc C@