Adventure Magazine Cover — page 147: what you’re looking at

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

Ajax, for “If you’d tell us just about what in you’re hunting for, maybe we’d advise you.” “Oh, thank you. You see I wish to ob- serve the effec‘s of astragala——”’ “You’re welcome!” yelps Magpie. ‘Go ahead, and may you die in your boots.”’ “T fear that is impossible,” says Ajax. “The boots belong to you.” “Happy birthday!’ ~—iyelps “'They’re yours, Ajax. Go to it.” “T will do my best, sir,’ says he, and we watches him going over the hills, dragging his rope behind him. ‘Just plain crazy, Ike,” declares Magpie. “Plain crazy.” “Not Ajax,” saysI. ‘‘Nossir! That feller is plumb fancy crazy. He’s gilt-edged, per- fumed and embroidered, Magpie. He knows a million dollars’ worth of things that won’t never do him any good—things that other fellers like him have found out; and now he’s out here to find out something to pass on to them. It won’t never do him nor anybody else any good—but they’ll be glad.” Magpie. . wo ys, yy Pras WE KNOCKED off work late in the afternoon. I laid down on the ; bunk while Magpie fixes a kettle of beans. He’s standing in the door of the cabin, pouring the water off them beans, when all to once there comes a hunk of lead, knocks the kettle out of Magpie’s hand, and hives up in the foot of our bunk. Then comes the crack of a rifle. I sees Magpie elevate his hands, and I slips loose my six-shooter. Then here comes ‘‘Mighty” Jones, covering Magpie with a rifle. Mighty owns the only herd of goats in the county, and each and every one of them shaggy things is nitroglycerin on_ legs. I figures that Mighty has gone crazy from herding same, so when he turns sideways to me I slams a .45 slug into the loading-plate of his rifle. That slug seems to cause consternation, being as it explodes some of Mighty’s magazine, and when a magazine full of 45-708 begin to heave and surge, it’s no place for a timid person. Magpie turns a flip-flop into the cabin, and Mighty tries to dig himself into our chip-pile. I pilgrims out there and looks at Mighty. “Whyfor the hands-up stuff, Mighty?” Tasks. ‘You peeved?” “You dang’ well know lam! You know Example I4I why, too—blast you! I only seen one of you, but you two are pardners, and—lI’ll see you in jail. I’m going to get the sheriff, ——me!”’ : “Plain crazy, Ike,” says Magpie sad-like. “Plain crazy.” “Very plain,” I agrees. “T’ll see you both in jail—betcher life!” wails Mighty. ‘Sure will.” “Better see a eye doctor, Mighty,” ad- vises Magpie. ‘‘You’re seeing things.” “You'll see something—dang you both!” And Mighty fogs off down the trail. “Poor old coot,” says Magpie. ‘‘Can’t help feeling sorry for him, Ike.” “Uh-huh. He was a good old buggy but he’s done broke down.”’ ‘No question about the buggy part, Ike.” We fixed up our pot of beans and won- dered where Ajax is. We ate supper and wondered some more about Ajax. Then cometh Lindhardt Cadwallader Sims, knowed as “Scenery.” We always figured that Scenery was sheriff by default, being as two of Magpie’s friends forgot to vote, and Scenery won by one vote. He’s about knee-high to a he-human, and has darned near polished all the epitaph off his star in six months. He squeaks when he walks and squeaks when he talks, which makes him a pathetic person among his feller men. The danged little imitation has a six-gun in his hand when he shows up in our door- way. He peers at us mean-like and clears his throat. beans into my plate, but I takes one look at his gun and swings back with that kettle and let her fly. It was a good shot. She just turns over once and hit him right in the chin. He staggers backward, drops his gun and begins to claw at them beans. Sudden-like he remembers his gun and goes pawing around for it. I swings the door about half- shut when I hears a biff and a grunt, and Scenery Sims comes into that door on his hands and knees. He hops to his feet fight- ing mad, and squeaks like a bull fiddle: “You assassinators is all under arrest! Hear me? You can’t monkey with no officer of the peace thataway and get away with it. Magpie, you daw-gonned, long- whiskered : Magpie stopped his yelps by picking him up and throwing him out of the door. Sce- nery was just sailing out as Ajax starts to COnniclboooks I’m just about to pour some C@