Adventure Magazine Cover — page 50: what you’re looking at

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

806 out at arm’s length and surveyed it ad- miringly. ‘‘Isn’t that a winner? And Perry’s make-up matches the card to a hair. “It did me good,” he went on feelingly, “‘to meet Perry—a decent, clean little chap like him with a bright honest face and nice manners—after the throw-down they’ve given me here in this town. I tell you, son, this burg would have had Napoleon Bona- parte riding on the bumpers! It’s a live wire all right. I landed here a while back with a straight, honest, little money-making proposition, and they had me hands down on the fly-paper before I had time to learn the names of the streets! I reckon Sunshine, Nebraska, is where I get off. This town’s too quick for me!”’ He eyed Reddy gloom- ily, then turned to the typewriter. ‘‘Here’s your machine over here, brother,”’ he said, moving toward it. “This one with the cover. Think you can carry it?” “Sure!” A look of profound relief sprang into Reddy’s eyes. He grasped the type- writer eagerly by the handle and lifted it to the floor. ‘‘That’s easy,” he said gratefully. ‘“‘T’m used to carryin’ ’em.”’ The Nebraskan shook his head ruefully and his eyes filled with pity. ‘“‘It’s too bad, son,” he said sympathetically, ‘‘to see such strength and splendid young manhood wasted around here. You ought to emi- grate out to Sunshine, Nebraska, my boy! We pay men like you big returns out there for brains and muscle.”” He moved toward the desk and, dropping heavily into a chair, picked upapen. “I'll scratch off a receipt,”’ he said amiably, ‘‘and I’ll give you one for the five dollars deposit I advanced to them.” Reddy stared blankly. ‘Another example of New York’s genial hand of welcome to the homeless and con- fiding stranger,” he observed bitterly as he scribbled, ‘‘this deposit business. Every- body sizes you up here for a second-story climber till you’ve proved yourself an inno- cent white lamb. Then they promptly pro- ceed to scientifically skin you so close you’re in danger of freezing to death. Nice town!”’ He swung around in his chair and held out the receipt. ‘‘There you are, son,”’ he said amiably. ‘‘Trot out the five dollars and the deal is closed.”’ Reddy Burns stood staring in awkward amazement, his feet and hands moving nervously. A look of dumb chagrin over- spread his countenance. Adventure “The boss didn’t tell me about any five dollars,” he protested in an injured tone. The Nebraskan’s eyebrows lifted sympa- thetically. ‘“Hedidn’t,eh? That’sfunny!” - he said in a tone of mild surprise, and glanced at the telephone. ‘‘ They cut me off yesterday, or I’d call him up,” he remarked, rising to his feet. ‘“‘But Ill tell you what we'll do, neighbor,” he suggested brightly, ‘“‘we’ll step into the next office and give your boss a call-down!’’ He dropped a familiar hand on Reddy’s shoulder and his blue eyes twinkled. “What d’ye say?” But Reddy’s hand was already irreso- lutely fumbling the thin wad of seven dol- lars in his trousers pocket, his brain working to the utmost of its limited capacity. “I guess I better go back and see the boss about it,’ he suggested weakly. “Yes, but that isn’t necessary,’ ob- served the Westerner helpfully. ‘We can easily telephone and fix it up.” Reddy’s forehead wrinkled meditatively. “‘I s’pose I can pay it myself,”’ he said in an injured tone, ‘‘and get it off the boss.”” He glanced about helplessly, nervously hesi- tating, then reluctantly drew out the crum- pled bills and counted five dollars on to the desk. Mr. Smart beamed approvingly. “‘You’re all right, neighbor,”’ he applauded, his eyes resting on Reddy with benevolent approba- tion. ‘“You’re made of the stuff we need out in Sunshine—men with your spirit. You'd be interested to see our new industry out there—the Sunshine Separator; it sepa- rates the cream from the milk, you know. I came East in the company’s interests, but —well, son, it’s live and learn, and I reckon this town’s a good place to learn in!” he said bitterly. He folded the bills and com- placently pocketed them. ‘And here’s your receipt,” he added affably, “‘and you tell that boss of yours he better get busy taking a course of memory lessons by mail!”’ But a burning, all-compelling desire to get out of the building obsessed Reddy. He forced a sickly grin in lieu of an answer and, clutching the typewriter by the handle, started for the door. Mr. Smart smiled comprehensively and, crossing the threshold stood watching him hurry down the long corridor. ‘Don’t forget, son,” he called after him cordially as a parting injunction, ‘“‘let me know if you decide to come. A letter to Sunshine Nebraska’ll always reach me. COmiclbook CO