Adventure Magazine Cover, October 10, 1921 — page 91: what you’re looking at

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

The Pathless Trail reason why folks sleep in hammocks down here.- Even then they’re likely to come down the hammock-cords and drive you out.” : “Ants, hey? Never thought o’ that. And I'd sooner spend another night fightin’ all the man-eatin’ jaggers in the jungle than them bugs. It’s the little things that count, as the feller said when his wife give him his fourteenth baby.” He downed the thick coffee brought by Thomaz, demanded another cup, accepted cigaret and light from Knowlton, and sighed heavily. “Who tried to hit you?” Knowlton per- sisted. “Aw, I dunno. Two-three fellers took swipes at me with bottles and things. Me and Joey went to a place where they’s card games and so on—only place in town where the village sports can git action. Joey offers to buy and does. Stuff tastes kind 0’ moldy to me, so I ask have they got any American beer. They have. It’s bottled and warm, but it’s beer and tastes like home. It goes down so slick I buy another round, and then one more, lettin’ in a thirsty-lookin’ stranger on the third round. That makes seven bottles altogether. Then I think, mebbe I better pay up now before I lose track. Looey, guess what them seven bottles o’ suds come to in American money.”’ ‘““M-m-m, well, say about three and a half or four dollars.” ‘“‘That’s what I figgered,’”’ mourned Tim, “But them highbinders want thirty-two dallars and twenty-cents, American gold.” “What!” “Sad but true. Seems the stuff sells here for four bucks and sixty cents a bottle. Thinkin’ I’m gittin’ rooked because I’m a tenderfoot, I raise a row to oncet and start to climb the guy. Other folks mix in and things git lively right off. But after I’ve dropped a couple o’ fellers Joey winds him- self round me and begs me not to make him arrest me, and also tells me I’m all wrong— that’s the reg’lar price. So o’ course that makes me out a cheap skate unless I come acrost, and I do the right thing.” “Lucky you had the money on you,’ McKay, eyeing him a bit oddly. “T didn’t,” chuckled Tim. “All the dough I had was one pore lonesome ten-spot—the one I got from ye yesterday, cap. But I don’t tell ’em that. I jest wave my hand like thirty-two plunks wasn’t nothin’ in ’ said 6 8I my young life, and start to work meself out o’ the hole. After the two guys on the floor are brought back to their senses I order up drinks for all hands and git popular again. Then I git out the bones.” “Oh. I see.” McKay laughed silently. “Sure. boat that these guys will gamble on any- thing? And that a feller without no shoes on may be some rubber-worker packin’ a roll that would choke a horse? Wal, I make a few passes with them dice 0’ mine and their eyes light up like somebody had switched on the current. Then I scrabble me hand around in me pants pocket, like I was peelin’ a bill off a wad so big I didn’t want to flash the whole roll, and haul out that pore li’l ten and ask would anybody like to play a man’s game. “They would. Ill sav they would. And they got the coin to back up their play, too. Before I come home I was buyin’ beer by the case instead o’ the bottle. And it’s all paid for, and I got more’n a hundred dollars left, besides givin’ Joey a fistful 0’ money jest for bein’ a good fellerw_This ain’t a bad town at all, gents. Outside o’ that buckin’- bronco hammick and the man-eatin’ ants I had a lovely evenin’.”’ “How about Joao’s lady friend?” quizzed Knowlton. “Huh? Oh, I didn’t git to see her. When bones and beer are rollin’ high and hand- some I got no time for women. Besides, I found out she was mostly Injun and fat as a hog. Nothin’ like that for li’l Timmy Ryan. Oh say, before I forgit it—I asked Joey about this Dutchman here, and he says 99 McKay scowled, shook his head, pointed toward the closed door of Schwandorf. Tim lifted his brows, winked understanding, and went on without a break: ‘‘—that this guy Sworn-off is a reg’lar feller and knows this river like a book. Says he’s one fine guy and a man from hair to heels.” Following which he grimaced as if some- thing smelled bad, adding in a barely audible whisper— ‘‘And that’s the worst lie I ever told.” “We met Mr. Schwandorf last night after : you went,’ Knowlton said easily, drawing down one eyelid. ‘Very likable sort of chap. He’s going to help us get started up-river.’ “Uh- huh. When do we go? Today?” “Tf possible.” “Glad of it. This big-town sportin’ life cComicoooks Remember they told us on the, C@©