Adventure Magazine Cover — page 149: what you’re looking at

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

The Daddy of Eight Hundred about it! It’s a sure thing—a pick-up. Pays six for one. You fellows git two; I git four. Your money, my brains. Let yin onit? You're cock-eyed!”’ And leaving behind him a string of echoing “‘Ha-ha’s” that sent shivers surging up and down their spines, Ducky went out. TWENTY minutes later Ducky en- tered the “‘lime-juicer’s” café. For fully a minute he stood swaying at re eer his squinting eyes ranging the long row of caps and flat-hats that lined the bar. At length, obviously having decided to begin at the head of the column, he lurched over to the first man. Instantly he encountered a cross-current. The man at the head of the bar was the most hard-boiled, foul-mouthed roughneck in the Farallone’s entire crew of eight hun- dred—‘‘Biff”’ Kelley. Biff leered at him viciously. ‘‘Sa-a-ay,” he growled, “doncha think it’s time you got wise to yourself? Who ever told you we’re sponges? You nailed me twice this afternoon in two different places, an’ I give you two yen both times. An’—— “*Sawright,” Ducky came right in on him. “All good things are three. Ever know that? ’T’sright. You gimme four yen? Then gimme another one, an’ make it even money. She’ll bring you back fifteen to-morrow mornin’.” Biff’s bulldog face reddened to a lobster- red. The leather-like skin bunched about his squinting eyes. He showed his teeth. His short heavy arms crooked, and his big fists doubled up. “You think you’re some foxy kind of a bird, don’cha?”’ Which Biff followed up with an avalanche of foulness that must have caused Sodomites to turn over in their graves. It only caused Ducky Wild to grin more hideously. He stood there reeling heavily, his grinning eyes meeting Biff’s fiery glares unblinkingly, as if to say, ‘‘Go ahead and pop it off, sonny.” And while Biff was popping, Slippery Ditch entered, walked to the rear, and took a place at the end of the bar. Biff didn’t quite get it all popped off. “Hello Ducky!” This time it-was “‘Juggy”’ Clark, the chief master-at-arms, who recognized an old ship- mate in Ducky. The filth-sputtering mouth of Biff 147 clamped shut.’ The next moment it was wide open, as if catching flies, as he watched Juggy and Ducky shake hands. Biff was a crestfallen gob. For on that ship Juggy Clark was a power—a bad man to get on the wrong side of. And here he had been calling this old tar, who was a goed friend of Juggy’s, everything in his lexicon. The two old shipmates stepped to one side, clear of the crowd. And just what had occurred at Shimisu’s occurred here. The two presently walked up to the bar, Ducky buzzing his yarn into Juggy’s ear. ‘Juggy drew a fat roll of bills, stripped a one-hundred-yen note off, and handed it to Ducky, just as Frisky Malone had done. Then he stepped back and, after getting the attention of all hands, proceeded to proclaim volubly and vouch for the integrity of one Ducky Wild. After which Ducky once more began at the head of the column. Biff Kelley, eager to redeem himself in the eyes of Juggy, started the ball rolling with a five-yen note. Others cheerfully followed suit. They had their ones, twos, and fives out and ready to hand over before Ducky reached them. “Kale, kale, must have kale,” Ducky chanted to each man. “All you can spare. Two thousan’ yen needed, an’ only four hours to go. Pay you back to-morrow, three for every one. Your money, my brains.” And just-as in Shimisu’s, the last man he came to was Slippery Ditch. For fully a minute Ducky stood leoking at him as a bulldog would a rat. “How the did you git here?” he finally growled. “Fly? Or did you foller me?” Once more he made Slippery side-step with a long brown squirt. “Say, sonny,” he continued. ‘I don’t want to see your physog again—git me? Better gimme a wide berth. ’Cause when I see too much of a physog I dislike I fill right up chock-a- block with rootin’, tootin’, man-eatin’ qualities.” Slippery held up a protesting hand. “T’m not lookin’ for trouble, old-timer.” His tone was oily. “I want to talk to you.” He swept the crowd with his shifty eyes, then, noting that no one was paying the old tar any further attention, stepped over close to Ducky and spoke into his ear— “Step in the back room with me and [ll make you a proposition.” He turned, and took a dozen steps to the COnMICLOOOKS