Adventure Magazine Cover — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

The Spark of Skecter Bill 15 Leeds’ gang? No, that was not it. The girl did not interest him at all and he had no sympathy for the minister. He knew that Leeds and his gang would put him out of the way as speedily as possi- ble when he showed up in Sunbeam. There were plenty ways of doing this—ways that would exonerate any one concerned. Skee- ter was no supershot. It would be a dozen against one. He knew that the wisest course would be to start traveling away from Sunbeam, but Skeeter Bill had little wisdom in these things. No, he would go back in spite of Leeds. The idea of backing the preacher amused Skeeter. He knew that Leeds and several other men would balk at a sermon in Sun- beam. “Anyway,” decided Skeeter, “I’ve got to go back after the judge, and this sky-pilot gives me a excuse. I’ve got to present Leeds with his daughter. Skeeter Bill, it’s goin’ to be a busy day for you.” Skeeter Bill prepared breakfast. Mary Leeds was cheerful, but Skeeter was able to see that she had slept little. The old minis- ter walked with a decided limp and his left arm was very painful, but he talked cheer- fully. “Tell me something of this town of Sun- beam,” said the minister as he watched Skeeter deftly removing slices of bacon from the spattering grease. Skeeter looked over his shoulder at the old man. ‘‘___ was built a long time ago, but some- body got hold of a map of it and built Sun- beam after the same idea.” “JT — J —uh—surely you exaggerate,” stammered the old minister. ‘Perhaps you are prejudiced.” Skeeter fished out more bacon before he replied. “Vuh got me fightin’ my own head, par- son. Two of them words I don’t sabe a-tall. You and the judge would make a good pair to draw to. He swallered a dictionary. Put on your nose-bags, folks. That coffee looks like stewed gunnysacks, don’t it? If I was cookin’ for saw-mills I wouldn’t get a splinter. The judge does the cookin’ at our shack, when he’s sober enough, which ain’t three meals a day reg’lar. Parson, I wish you’d temperance him for a while. The old fool is goin’ to kiil himself. First time he seen a pink elephant, and the second time it was a green buffalo, and now I’m bettin’ he’s about due to see a pinto geewhinkus. Any time he sees a pinto gee- whinkus he’s due to hammer a harp, yuh know it?” The minister and Mary Leeds, neither of whom knew what Skeeter Bill meant, both nodded their heads and sat down to eat. Skeeter grinned, but the grin faded and he rubbed a hand across his chin. He turned to the minister and the girl. “Folks, I want yuh to understand that Sunbeam ain’t no civilized place. You're goin’ into a camp-town, where everythin’ goes except the cook-stove and three joints of pipe. Far as I can see you’re both buckin’ a brace game, and I just been figurin’ out a combination that might help yuh both. “Suppose, parson, that you kinda adopts the lady. Let everybody think she’s your daughter. It ain’t goin’ to hurt neither one of you, is-it? Kinda gives her protection, parson.” The old minister nodded slowly over his coffee and turned to the girl. “My dear, I think our friend is right. I am more than ready to offer my pro- tection, if you will accept.” “But why should we stoop to deception?” asked Mary. ‘Surely there is no harm in my going to Sunbeam to seek my father.” “Sunbeam,” said Skeeter, ‘“‘won’t care a what you came there for. You’d be a maverick, miss. No, yuh better go in there as a preacher’s daughter.” “Well,” said Mary wearily, “it does not make the slightest difference to me. I fail to see why I should do this, except to humor you, Mr. Bill.” Skeeter Bill nodded seriously, but his face broke into a wide smile as he looked at her. ‘“‘Name’s Sarg, ma’am. Everybody calls me Skeeter Bill for short. I dunno whether you made any more mistakes in your dis- course or not, ’cause I don’t sabe anythin’ except English and cuss-words, but I ap- pears to decipher that you’ll be the preach- er’s daughter.”’ Mary Leeds nodded and smiled. It was almost impossible to look at Skeeter’s homely face without smiling. The old man was slowly sipping at his coffee, looking absently off across the desert, but now he turned to Skeeter. “My son,’ what line of endeavor do you pursue?” Skeeter looked up quickly and stared at the old man. COMmicaoo® S CO@