Adventure, June 1911 — page 35: what you’re looking at

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

DAD cend DESTINY BY JOHN A: HEFFERNAN ~FORMLESS, fringy, low - lying, white-brown-and-yellow thing, for all the world like a fried egg afloat, drifted between the blunt-nosed férry-boat and her slip. It was the canal- ‘boat caravan, the loosely articulated, haw- -ser-bound “Albany tow” with its flat white deckhouses and yellow-striped gunwales and its fluttering lines of checked jumpers, white petticoats and such, all fresh from the wash-buckets. Fussy tugs pulled at great cables ahead, fussy tugs scurried around the flanks, trimming in the loose ends. Sharp and fierce the signal bells rang in the engine-room of the ferry-boat and the ancient craft trembled under the strain as her paddle-wheels beat in reversal. The waters gurgled and churned and a stream of foamy soap-suds surged out from under the bews. Two men stood on the forward deck, leaning against the heavy railing. The ruffled silk hat of one of them was pulled down over his eyes. The eyes were slightly bloodshot because the owner of them had been drinking, but otherwise they were very pleasant gray eyes, just as the face with its smooth, broad brow and straight, beardless features was a very pleasant face. The garments of the young man—he was about twenty-five —were..of fashionable material, although somewhat tousled like his brown hair, and they fitted well a clean-limbed, six-foot frame. The other was older, although not much; a short, stocky fellow ‘with an ageressively protuberant chest, sharp features and nar- row, shrewd, humorous eyes. His cutaway coat, gray trousers and black derby’ hat were speckless, his patent-leather shoes refulgent, his gray silk waistcoat was but- toned with diamond-centered pearl discs and his lavender scarf. was held by a big diamond pin. Although standing side by side they had not spoken since the ferry-boat left the Brooklyn shore. The older man glanced occasionally at the younger, the younger glared gloomily down at the waters: The foamy streak from the paddle-boxes caught his sight and excited his disapproval. “Thought I wash on the fron’ o’ thish boat?” he said, addressing the other. “Right you were, bo!” was the cheery answer. “Um! Wah—when ’d we turn aroun’?”’ ‘“Didn’t. She’s backing up.” ‘Goin’ back to Brooklyn?” ‘Looks like it.” “Well, she c’n go ish she likes: . I’m not!” said the younger man decisively and he jumped overboard. 221 COMICLOOCKKS. EGO