Adventure Magazine Cover — page 63: what you’re looking at

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

The Spirit behind the Bluff “Hire somebody to kill Metchler if you don’t do anything else,” one demanded. “But that—that woul » “‘That’s what it would if you Were caught doing it,” the man said. “You can’t hire an assassin and not lay yourself open to blackmail on the one hand, and to hanging for murder on the other. But that’d be better than letting Wad Metchler walk on you the way he 1s doing.”’ Keyes shrank from meeting to mecting of oil men; he was a good man on the board of trade, alert, confident and capable; he was progressive, and gave of his substance to have good streets made, a good city hall built, and all the other improvements that could not come fast enough by ordinary political and municipal promotion. His fortune was added to faster than he could count it. His humiliation grew more and more desperate every day. Metchler had him foul. A man didn’t need courage in attacking a craven like Timmy Keyes. Others of Metchler’s crew began slyly to undertake the same kind of tactics. Instantly there was an ominous growl. For an hour Metchler himself paused, startled by the stiffening of Keyeswell’s public against more than one man nagging the foremost citizen in town. On second thought, Metchler saw the point. Fair play would not permit more than one bully at a time, as regards ove man. With a laugh Metchler emerged from the retreat he had found the instant word went around that everybody couldn’t hound Timmy Keyes. The bully knew now what was expected of him. If he succeeded in running Timmy Keyes out of town single- handed, he would instantly become the chairman of the board of trade, and would succeed to all the powers that Keyes had in hisown hands. As that chairman Metch- ler, with his keen understanding and careless experiences, would be able to fasten his hands on the fortune he had come seeking— another fortune. The following morning Metchler in his huge automobile, with truck tires and an enormgus engine, came down Derrick Street just as Timmy Keyes turned in out of Pipeline Lane, which led, now beautifully paved, to his own home, an old ranch house just out of town. Metchler, at the steering- gear of his car, saw his chance. Stepping on the accelerator, he slid in behind Keyes’ 53 runabout, drove swiftly ahead and rammed the left drive wheel of the smaller machine. The blow tore away all that side of Keyes’ automobile, and left it wrecked in the street. “Get out of a man’s way!’ Metchler yelled as he passed on. ‘Blocking up the street, you coward!” The city marshal arrested Metchler, who was taken before the city judge, who fined him ten dollars “for endangering. the lives of women, children and others by reckless driving.”’ It was a good joke. Two hours Jater a paper was served on Keyes ordering him to “clean up the débris” which he had scattered on the corner of Pipeline and Derrick Streets, “including the glass.” Keyes was obliged to send two of his own hired men to do the work, while a crowd stood around Jjeering them. That afternoon Metchler waited at the same corner, grinning and alone. Scattered along both sides of the street were spectators waiting to see the fun, when Keyes should emerge from a meeting of the Keyeswells Pipeline Company. “I’m going to collect damages for what he done to the paint on my bow fender,” Metchler explained, “taking it out of his hide if necessary.” No one told Keyes that Metchler was waiting. The meeting was adjourned, and Keyes came down onto the sidewalk. Metchler buttoned one button of his coat, and started for his victim. Keyes saw him coming. For an instant Keyes hesitated, but it was from fear surprized. He turned and dashed down the street, and because he was limber, small and scared, he could run faster than Metchler. Every one yelled, whooped, laughed and jeered. Without looking back Keyes jumped farther, faster and more desperately. He could hear the heavy footfalls behind him as thick soles pounded the concrete, the plank and the dried earth of the sidewalks there. On the next corner was an open door with a dark interior.’ Over the door was the sign “Simms & Co.” Keyes plunged into that refuge, as a rabbit Jumps Into the burrow when a coyote pursues. On the instant every vell, every laugh, every sound without ceased. It was a hardware store. In the store there was only one man. He was Dan Simms, who had known Keyes for many years, and who knew that the faith of the little man had made that great wealth GO NOOLK S CO@ inn