Adventure Magazine Cover — page 121: what you’re looking at

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

Tillicums - feelin’ so good that the best we can do, all the way home, is pull off five or six little dinky arguments that don’t amount to nothin’. Back at the post we weigh in our dust, lay in our Winter’s outfits an’ spend four or five days baskin’ in the approval of the camp. Then I pull out for my bench-claim. ‘ An’ that’s the last I see of them two erst- while: an’ esteemed associates of mine ‘for nigh on to four years. The followin’ Spring I migrates to Man- ook, an’ that thrivin’ metropolis claims me right up to now. ) Nome rush. Manook has done organized to celebrate the Fourth, bang-up, bust-her-open style, an’ I’m stand- in’ chairman of the committee. I got to be in town a few days ahead of time, so I mush in on the first. An’ the very first person I meet up with is Ole Erickson. “Where’s Michael Joseph?” I nacher’ly asks him right off. “Don’t you never mention that outlaw’s name in my presence no more!’ he hollers, screechin’ like a Comanche. “I ain’t no- ways concerned over the whereabouts of the slitherin’ imbecile from now on! We’ve quit! Let’s go get a drink.” Well, sir, here certainly is some news! Michael Joseph Ryan an’ Ole Erickson sepa- rated! I’m that flabbergasted I’m mighty near floored. But, take it from me, by night I’ve gathered all the available in- formation that has any bearin’ on this un- believable bust-up. An’ this time she’s sure enough serious. Michael an’ Ole has differed once too often. Seems like they hit EE “about a week previous. They’ve been prospectin’ on Ray River, an’ they blow into town ragged, out of grub an’ busted. Moreover, Ole’s got the rheumatics—bad. ’Course, the store will trust ‘em; but they hold off, orderin’ jes’ enough fodder to last ’em a couple of weeks. They’re proud, them two. They’ve been in camp three days when Ole buys him a bottle of liniment. The wrapper around this here cure-all is a almanac; an’ that night, while Michael is anointin’ him, Ole proceeds to read up some, COMES July—the year of the big The almanac sets up a claim that the moon is more’n two hundred thousand miles away. Ole declares this statement sounds 115 correct to him. Michael snorts an’ allows that our silvery satellite hangs a’short fifty miles out in space. They go to bed fussin’; for two days an’ nights they keep it up; then Ole moves his traps to another empty cabin, statin’ that he’s through associatin’ with a galoot that’s so pig-headed that he won’t believe nothin’, even when he sees it in a book, An’ neither one gives in. The camp is sure enough concerned over this here rupture; but we all knows ’em too well to butt in. All we can do is to let things drift. The situation does look mighty bad an’ hopeless. Then comes the Fourth. Our big birthday dawns clear an’ bright an’ purty, like is fittin’ an’ proper for the natal day of our blessed land. Me an’ the rest of the committee has done promulgated a program that sets a high-mark in the annals of sport; an’ I’m on hand bright an’ early to see that she’s carried out. We aim to pull off a monster athletic carnival wherein the brawn an’ sinew of the Lower River gets a chance to bust a lot of records an’ show up the Outside. An’ we does it. We go right down that list of events, smashin’ rules an’ records in a way that startles an’ amazes the spectators an’ even the contestants. An’ when Beans Bayo, a one-eyed Injun .that’s past sixty, runs a hundred yards in eight seconds, flat, we’re sure we got the three speediest watches in the whole world; an’ it’s a safe bet that the name of our camp goes crashin’ down in history with a re- verberatin’ roar. The last thing we pulls off is a canoe race. This here race is open; but we don’t figger anybody but Injuns enters, ’cause there ain’t hardly no white man can navigate them Injun boats. They’re speedy an’ they’re purty; but it sure takes lots of practise to master ’em. Them little boats is that cantankerous an’ temper’mental, they upsets every time the paddler changes his mind. The committee has done got six of them beached on the far side of the river. So when Michael Joseph Ryan climbs into the boat that’s goin’ to ferry the Injun con- testants across to the’ startin =poing, there’s a general protest. “He’s bughouse!” Dick Peters allows. “He’s been worryin’ about Ole so. much he’s Ly} GEomichooks ’ GOr