Adventure Magazine Cover — page 176: what you’re looking at

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

170 yours and bring us alla real drink? Gimme a chew, you old sheeney!”’ Pug winked slowly at Paddy as he bit a big hunk off Paddy’s plug and stuck the rest in his pocket. “Shiminy Moses, vot is? That Pug, he smokes my smokes tobacco; he shews my shews tobacco; he calls me a sheeney.” Old Paddy twisted his wrinkled face into an imitation of a hired mourner at a Jewish funeral, scooped a handful of dust from the road and began to cast it over his head. ‘“Sashcloth mitt ashes by you, you schweinhund of an Irisher.” The roar that went up at this exchange of pleasantries was cut short by the cap- tain’s command— “Fall in.” “A” again took up the nace deploying as skirmishers to cover the rear of the column already taking position at the top of the draw. Pega THERE was no officer in all that 'yfaen brigade who took a clearer or more am! comprehensive view of the terrane In rain of him than did Old Paddy. Age had not dimmed his sight, and his leathery muscles were still all to the good. He saw a pretty field of operations, the insurgents lying in their trenches on a ridge to the left, the tents of the Twelfth shining like stones in a cemetery on another ridge to the nght. In the center lay a long valley, widening in the distance to where its foot touched the waters of Manila Bay. In the near foreground rose a tall mango tree, its wide-flung branches rising like a pyramid over the deep lush grass. In the distance a small rocky hill rose in the center of the plain. Already the commander of the first regiment was deploying his companies as skirmishers to take the front line of attack. Then in response to a command from the signal man on the general’s staff, “A” company began to move forward at double time, Old Paddy and his chinks clattering along in the rear. The sun had risen toward its meridian and was already scorching the backs of Com- pany “‘A,” but in they went, advancing by rushes, taking advantage of all shelter and keeping their proper place in the rear of their regiment. An occasional bullet dropped near them. Old Paddy tore along, driving his chinks to the utmost. Adventure He knew what generally happened to stragglers in the Philippines, and had no desire to be strapped out on an ant-heap until his bones were picked clean asa hound’s tooth. He’d keep up all right, and when the outfit settled down to real fighting he’d show ’em a thing or two, and maybe get a lance corporal’s stripe after the thing was over. This day dream was ended by a smashing blow on the left arm that turned him half around. A .45 Remington had drilled through it. He glanced at the blood streaming down his wrist, yelled to the chinks to keep up with the company, then sat down and opened his “first %id”’ package. When he had finished dressing his wound the brigade was stretched out along the foot of the slope, throwing volley after volley toward the in- surgent trenches above them. Already he could see the first of the wounded men, the ‘‘walking”’ cases, coming down the slope. He began to figure how he could aid them, and again the “clip” of a bullet as it cut the grass near him broke in on his thoughts. It came from near by. A sniper, evidently, overlooked in the advance, had his range. He dodged into a near-by coulée and worked to the shelter of a clump of cogon grass, its plumes waving in the sun like the spears of a Zulu zmpz. He rested a few minutes, reviewing his chances. He could see the top of the rocky hill in the center of the plain and was sur- prized that it was so near. This! was a place of refuge and if the fringe of small brush around its top told no lie it concealed a depression that probably still held the water deposited by the rains of the month before. He tightened the bandage on his arm, slipped from the cogon grass, and ran in a zig-zag toward the hill. He gained the sum- mit and dropped out of sight in the small brush that lined a deep, mud-scummed depression in its center. Paddy’s throat was parched, but he would not drink the water from his canteen. He knew how precious it would be if he had to remain for any length of time exposed to the rays of the tropical sun. Instead he worked his way down to the slimy basin and swept the scum to one side. Underneath it lay a pool of dirty water, reeking with animalcule. He spread his handkerchief, tied his tin cup in it and held it beneath the surface until the cup was full, COMICOOokKS Cc (C©@