Adventure Magazine Cover — page 112: what you’re looking at

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

104 is a thrill in a cock-fight or a dog-fight, a greater in a fist-fight between two powerful and determined men; but two men facing each other, with a killing certain, is some- thing else again. There is a peculiar sus- pense, an atmosphere not quite like any- thing else in the world. A belated freighter passed, his three wagons clack-clacking, the trace chains of twelve sets of heavy harness rattling musi- cally; a stranger stepped through the wide- open door, took a step or two toward the bar, then froze in his tracks. A fine mist of dust floated in on the evening breeze, bearing the acrid smell of hot axle-grease and leather and sweating horses. Peets, fully recovered from his nervous spell now that things had come to a show- down, stood tense and glaring, ready for the Kid’s slightest move, watching the Kid’s left hand with unblinking eyes. The Kid’s hand slipped nearer and nearer to the drawer and his gun. The clacking and chain- rattling died away, and ceased as_ the freighter turned a near-by corner. SITIX-HOSS SIMPSON, when the row began, stood drinking at the . bar with a tall, hatchet-faced, slim- fingered man who wore horn-rimmed glasses with thick lenses. The slim man looked like a tenderfoot, which he emphatically was not. He was “Professor” Irwin, editor and proprietor of The Porcupine News, a weekly paper which was famous for its polysyllabic English, hence the “Professor” handle to his name. The Professor was a college man, and his friendship for the illiterate Six-Hoss came about through a mutual respect for a “shandygaff,’’ which is old-time Western idiom for a glass of beer spiked with a man’s size drink of whisky. They turned, with their drinks in their hands, at the first signs of a row, and stood with their backs to the bar. The Professor had the detestable habit of going about at all times with his mouth open. He looked scared—and wasn’t. ‘“‘Ambidextrous,’”’ murmured the professor as he eyed Peets’ hands hovering near his gun-butts. ‘“Andy—what?” demanded Six-Hoss. ‘““Ambidextrous,” replied the Professor. Adventure “Or, in language addressed to your under- standing, Six-Hoss; handy with both mits. The Kid hasn’t a chance—not the ghost of a chance—and it’s too bad! He’s a good kid and & ‘‘Andydexter is right,” Six-Hoss inter- rupted, ‘‘and my money goes on the Kid— et!” “Drinks?” queried the Professor. “Drinks goes,” agreed Six-Hoss. ‘“Done,’’ finished the Professor. The Kid’s left hand moved swiftly, but very slightly, merely sliding an inch or two along the table. Peets’ hands flashed to his guns; the Kid smiled. Peets’ hands moved away from his guns; he got rid of his cigar by the simple expedient of opening his mouth and letting it drop. He blew a fragment of tobacco-leaf from his lips, and the slight sound, in the intense stillness, sounded almost like a shot. Then Nobody knew how it happened; nobody saw it done. One instant the drawer was tight shut, and the Kid’s hands resting lightly on the table; then the drawer stood wide open and the Kid’s gun was in his hand. Peets drew both guns; the Kid fired. The sharp bark of the Smith & Wesson was fol- lowed instantly by the roar of a .45. The .45 plowed its way through the table, two feet in front of the Kid; Peets, shot square between the eyebrows, took one step forward and fell face down on the table, then slumped to the floor, his other gun going off as he fell. ‘“‘Ambidextrous,’’ murmured the Professor again. ‘“‘Ambidexter is right,’ agreed Six-Hoss. “Only—the Kid is ambidexter in the head, Professor. Drink up—you owe me one and I’m dry like a fish.” “Marvelous!” exclaimed the Professor as he finished his drink. ‘“Too speedy for me, Six-Hoss; too speedy for me! I didn’t get it.” ‘““No-o-0-0?”’ drawled Six-Hoss. ‘“‘Mebby I might he’p you, Professor. I built that table—there’s a spring behind that drawer, and a left-hand button to let her go. Ambidexter, says you? You're right, Pro- fessor; but ambidexter in the head beats all the other kind plumb to Fill ’em up, Charlie; the Professor loses.” GOMIIGooOo S C@