Adventure Magazine Cover — page 113: what you’re looking at

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

Tillicums An’ I’m more than ready to help either Michael or Ole or both of ’em to accomplish this delightful task. Only my position as host prevents me from tryin’ to bring about their joint demise, alone an’ single-handed. Nothin’ but a lot of high-proof will-power an’ a most amazin’ kind heart prevents me from treatin’ them two wahoos to a big dose of mayhem, malice aforethought an’ great bodily harm. It sure is a struggle with me to abstain from violence. At first, everything is peace- ful an’ lovely. They comes in, undoes their packs, washes up an’ sets down to the supper I has ready by the time they’re done groom- in’ themselves. Each of ’em stows away a big wad of grub without remark or com- ment. So far, things is fine. “Long about at this point I’m congratulatin’ myself that a heavy load of food has done calmed their troubled spirits an’ that a pleasant, gossipy evenin’ is about to ensue. I’m jes’ as close to makin’ a good guess as France is to goin’ dry. We no more’n fall back from the table and get our pipes goin’ when the Swede starts things. “T hope we has a nice day tomorrow,” he ventures, castin’ an appraisin’ eye at Michael. An’ Michael Joseph don’t disappoint. He’s ready. “What for do you-all wish for a nice day for?” he demands. ‘‘A day’s a day, ain’t it? What’s the difference if a day’s a nice > day or a bum day? It’s one more day jes’ the same, ain’t it? We gotta live jes’ so many days, don’t we? An’ jes’ so many of them has gotta be good an’ so many has gotta be cultus, ain’t they? What you-all tryin’ to do—wish them bum days out of their rightful turn?” “You bet Iam!” Ole affirms. “I’m doin’ jes’ that. I’m cheerful an’ joyous by nature, I am, an’ any time I can wish a miserable or’nary day offa the calendar, ’m goin’ to do it. Even if it does peeve some folks to be surrounded by sunshine an’ happiness.” ““Say,’’ Michael Joseph hollers, “if I had your nerve I’d write a book! Whatever do you-all mean, tryin’ to interfere with Nature by wishin’ them days around?”’ “Well, you heard me!”’ Ole hollers back. “T’m wishir’ for a nice day tomorrow, an’ I hope I gets my wish!” ““An’ I hope she’s a rotten, miserable twister of a day!” the Irishman screeches. “More’n that, you quit wishin’ the weather i Ss -. ae ae 107 around to suit yourself. I got a half interest in the future, myself, an’ I wants you to let my days alone!” - ‘Now, listen,” I cut in, aimin’ to calm em. ‘‘What’s the use of arguin’ about somethin’ we ain’t got nothin’ to say about? There ain’t no possible chance to change the weather, so what’s the use fussin’ about “Who’s fussin’?” they both demand in- stanter. . ‘An’ who cut you in on this?” Ole further inquires. ‘‘Me an’ Michael was discussin’ nice an’ peaceful, the physocology of wishes, an’ you horns in an’ tries to starta argument. What license has you got to butt in on a subject you don’t understand?” ‘“That’s more’n a hundred per cent. right,’ Michael Joseph agrees. ‘“You-all ought to stay closer to the bank, where you can wade around easy. Don’t get out in the middle till you know how to swim,” he cautions. ‘“VYou’re both right,” I admit. ‘I’m sure out of the class of you two. An’, as a atone- ment for flounderin’ into strange waters, I’m goin’ to dig up what’s left of a bottle of Scotch, which I been savin’ for jes’ such a auspicious occasion as this here.” Michael Joseph anticipates my effort to pour him a drink by grabbin’ the bottle away from me an’ holdin’ it up to the light. “Tt seems to me,”’ he opines, squintin’ at the last bit of Smoky Heather within fifty miles, “that this here Scotch is too light- colored to be properly aged. I’ve drunk a heap of Scotch while huntin’ around for some real whisky, an’ I always notices that young, immature Scotch is lemon-colored like this here. Scotch what’s properly ma- tured is deeper in color—more like a grape- fruit.” “You're crazy!” Ole declares. . ‘There ain’t no difference in color between a grape- fruit an’ a lemon. On top of that, it keeps me busy for the next two weeks tellin’ what ? -you don’t know about whisky. Or grape- fruit.” “Let me inform you of somethin’!” Michael roars. “I’ve drunk more whisky than the King of Sweden ever seen! There _ain’t nobody can tell me nothin’ about whisky! I’m sure a Past Grand Sampler when it comes to judgin’ whisky. Or drink-: in’ it.. I can easy drink a pint of whisky in two swallers. An’ to prove it,” he adds, throwin’ back his head an’ takin’ a deep cS reloy comichboot