Adventure Magazine Cover, October 10, 1921 — page 110: what you’re looking at

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

6 100 open f’r pie fillin’ an’ finds it full o’ pop- skull! Kunnel, you better-——” “The time, seh, calls fo’ true men,” announced Colonel Tunk adjusting his - frock coat lapels with dignified composure. “No subterfuge—nothin’ that is not above board in this crisis! I shall merely attend the bazaar and ask Mr. Tuttle to allow me to select a crate o’ coconuts fo’ my own delectation an’ the lodge ritual. He, seh, bein’ a gentleman, will gladly cooperate.” “That’s it—cooperate—” retorted Mr. Gilfish pessimistically. ‘‘He wanted to join the Oolahs, but if Dick Tuttle gits in this lodge the rest of us’ll git in jail—that’s all I got to say!” : “Come on, seh,” said Colonel Tunk. “‘The Sons of Oolah will be there. I expaict, seh, to enjoy myself, after claimin’ in full view and above board, one crate of selected coconuts from my donation. Perfectly open an’ casual transaction—it couldn’t be better fo’ our ends, Mr. Gilfish.”’ ‘Well, I hope so— You can’t initiate some o’ the lodge members on Jest milk,” put in Mr. Gilfish as he hurried along with Colonel Tunk. Mr. Gilfish thoughtfully neglected to tell the colonel that he had already made one covert effort to save the Sons of Oolah from this calamity. Townsfolk were beginning to arrive and pay their twenty-five cents apiece to enter the Oriental Bazaar when Colonel Tunk entered and bowed with the air of a gentle- man of the old school to the effusive ladies of the reception committee. Gay was the scene within. Lanterns, rugs, plants and hangings from the homes of Mississippi City lent an air of Oriental abandon; and in one corner stood the striped tent of the Bashi-bazouks with the warlike relics of dead and gone sheiks of the desert tacked on the poles. And round about the Millard cabbage-palms ran the sandy Sahara itself as much as fifteen feet either way. Colonel Tunk and Mr. Gilfish gazed and gazed. They knew it was a con- stitutional desert, for on a Turkish divan in the caravansary stood a bottle of pop. “Is this here the oasis where the preacher said a fello’ pilgrim could rest an’ refresh himself after trottin’ the burnin’ sands?” murmured Mr. Gilfish. ‘And looky!— what they did with those blamed coconuts! The beans is spilled, kunnel—upside down an’ backward!’ , Colonel Tunk paled slightly and then Adventure looked at Dick Tuttle’s perverted handi- work with superb nonchalance. Along each rail of the enclosure about, the booth of the Bashi-bazouks ran a row of little brown coconuts. Around the dais under the striped tent were worked other designs in coconuts. The back wall held Arabesques of them; strings of them sus- pended by their hairy whiskers ran up and down the pillars; while on the counter before the booth, the remainder were heaped with a placard announcing that the lot was a donation to the missionary fund from Colonel T. Sambola Tunk, Esq. “T didn’t think,” murmured Colonel Tunk,” that he’d do that! Sixty of ’em somewhere in all that mess—marked with the sign of the Oolah.” “T told you to keep the preacher out 0’ this coconut business,”’ croaked Mr. Gilfish . evilly in the Colonel’s ear. ‘Close to eight gallons o’ whisky decoratin’ this church entertainment—I guess we better fade right out’ o’ here before they start some- thing!” ‘‘Hum,” retorted Colonel Tunk. ‘““There’s Judge Brandagee and Major Huckaby just arrivin’. Mr. Gilfish, seh, I am goin’ to have my coconuts if I have to tear down this whole, unholy infidel exhibition!”’ “Lordy, no!’ whispered Mr. Géilfish, “Dick Tuttle’s askin’ ’em to sing! Finesse —hey? Go to it, ole hoss!”’ And across the hot sands vanished Mr. Gilfish to lose him- self in the crowds around the bazaar booths. “Hello, kunnel! What do you think of it?” Colonel Tunk turned to gaze into the red, perspiring face of Parson Dick Tuttle. Dick waved a hand at the tent of the faithful. “Wonderful,” murmured Colonel Tunk. ““Remarkable—but, seh——”’ “You were late getting here,” Preacher Dick, ‘‘but there’s the pile. basket, kunnel, and help yourself. find a drink in the booth——”’ ““Seh?”’ “‘Grape juice, kunnel. Or maybe you like coconut milk Colonel Tunk smiled. ‘“‘To a true believer, seh, seekin’ the shade o’ the oasis, after the desert sands, your invi- tation is alluring. Don’t mind seh, if I do!”’ Preacher Dick waved a hospitable hand as some fussy old lady came up and sought his advice. Then grandly, conscious that behind one of the cabbage palms, Mr. Gil- fish was watching timorously, and that the went on Get a You'll cComicoooks C@