Adventure (Canada), March 1943 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

WARDEN OF THE ZONE By JOCK CUNNINGHAM All he saw was the botile coming down, and behind i¢ Sandenis’ face, oruel and bitter. road. Sandenis stopped the pickup truck and made a mock salute to him. The soldier recognized him, grin- ned, and waved back. So that was the way, Ramos thought sourly, that San- denis got along with the pigs. He tried on a smile, experimentally. It didn’t fit well on his face, so he let it drop. The big tanker, squeezing along the Canal, was like a big, fat woman—blind drunk and staggering, being pulled and prodded through a door to bed by her tough little children, the towcars. What [ soldier stepped out into the did they call them? Afulos. More stupid- ity. Why call them mules when they were not mules? His own mother, Ramos thought, had been such a tanker, the Spanish blood lightening her skin some, but not chang- ing her body, and making her fatter. His father had been lighter—Indian and Spanish. Ramos had bred cocks once, and once had wondered what name of breed such mother and father had pro- duced. Spanish, Indian and Negro. At any rate, he was a Panamanian. The ship disappeared behind the con- oO MICLOO© (CO S (CO