Adventure Magazine Cover, December 10, 1922 — page 164: what you’re looking at

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

ze “Perzackly.”” And the guard lifted a bill- fold from a hip pocket. “T’ll take half o’ your hundred,” said Logical Jones. “And I’ll eat the other half,” said the other bettor. ‘My name is Morton-Dyer.”’ They couldn’t get their money out quickly enough. ‘They shoved.it into old Sinehour’s hands, talking down his startled objections in a dozen rushing words. He got their names, and pocketed the money with tremulous fingers. “Oh me, oh my,” he chirruped. blers pausing at nothing.” The fire guard hurriéd across the street to change clothes, he told them. As soon as he was out of sight a buzz of talk set up. The others on hand sort of envied the two who had bet, as if they had got hold of sure- thing tickets in a lottery. “Three days,” they declared. “Or any- how, two days. Even a man used to it like the fire guard is couldn’t go up there in nine hours.” “Like taking candy from a kid,” chuckled the big fellow. ‘Wonder what’s the matter with the “‘Gam- _ bird?” , “He might have a trick of his own,” said Logical Jones. “Worth fifty bucks to see it if he has.” “Eh?” Morton-Dyer was startled. “You don’t suppose he has?”’ “Tf I had I wouldn’t have bet. called Logical Jones for nothing.” Smart Aleck was back just before seven o'clock. Quite a little crowd had gathered by now. Smart Aleck was in running togs with spiked shoes especially made, it was plain to be seen. The proprietor of the hotel came out. He and the guard grinned at each other. Then the hiker was off, hitting for the trail in long strides. “That Smart Aleck fire guard,” said the landlord, “‘is fixing to get himself fired from the forest service.” “Why?” asked Jones and Morton-Dyer together. “For making this bet so much.” “Veah?’’.said Jones, his eyes turning cold. The crowd began to grin. The stake- holder clutched at his coat pocket. “‘This is the fourth time this Summer he has made the bet,” said the landlord. “What’s his record?” asked Jones. “T don’t know—less than eight hours. I’m not Adventure That ain’t nothing though. At the mara- thon of 1913 Westerlund made it up and back in six hours and two minutes.” BY SIX o’clock in the evening the people began to avoid Smart Aleck and his big I. “T’m the man that made it up to the top and back in eight hours and _ thirty-two minutes today. I’m likely the only man in the Northwest could of done it.” At ten o’clock the vast majority whom he had afflicted, at the soda fountain, at the hotel porch, had snubbed him. And by midnight even the interested and the patient had abandoned him, until only the drug- store clerk remained. At a half-hour past midnight the clerk shut up shop and turned the Iagoo out into the night. Smart Aleck strolled toward the hotel, where he saw lights. He liked to go down alleys when he could have traversed streets, or in by backdoors when the front was invitingly open. So now he went to the side of the hotel with an ear cocked for anything. He paused by a window at the side. It was open, but the shade was drawn. Voices inside told him that a poker game was on. He made haste to enter by the nearest route—through a side door near the win- dow. This opened into a little hallway, and from the hall he went into the office, where the game was in progress. “Hello!” he called out in loud good hu- mor. “Guess the man that went to the top and back today can look on, hey?” “Takes money to stick around here!” retorted one of the players. This was Morton-Dyer. Throughout the day he had resembled, to some visions, a moving picture actor of great elegance; and to others, a race-track gambler. Now,’ with a cigar tilted high in his mouth to keep the smoke out of his eyes, and with a blue- bordered’ handkerchief around his neck, he looked like a one-time shell-game operator at a county fair. . “Wantin’ to win some of your money back?” asked Smart Aleck, and roared out. “Haw-haw-haw!”’ “Zssst!”’ hissed the little night clerk, called Fags. ‘People trying to sleep upstairs.” ‘“‘Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry?” murmured another player, Logical Jones. The two other players at the table JOOKS AAI (E(0) (EO)