Adventure Magazine Cover, October 1911 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

958 Trainor stood, lax hands at his sides, Jooking after her with bitter pain in his deep-set eyes, his lip and nostrils working rabbit-wise. Little Bill dragged us into town that night, in a well-meant attempt to ‘drown the memory of it’’; and the result was that for the first and last’time we put Trainor to bed in my room. CHAPTER IV BIG ODDS ORBID fits of the blackest blues were no new thing for him; but they were not at all like this. For three days he sat in my room and would not eat. When I urged the anxiety of the people on North Avenue, he said he was not needed, now the old man was quiet, and he would say no more. It was at dusk of the third day, and the glee-club was singing on the steps of Hol- worthy. We sat listening to the soft music, than which I have heard no sweeter since, and his head was in his hands. In a silence, while cries of ‘‘ More!” echoed across the quadrangle, he burst out, “That Girl is thoroughly disgusted!’? His strong white teeth fairly mangled the words. ‘And she has reason, for she has seen the Beast!” The bitter pain in his face then lightened slowly to something like a grim smile as he went on broodingly: “And that snake, Kin- yon! I can hear him now—‘I assure you, Miss Barbour, I esteem Mr. Trainor highly, and at bottom he is really courageous!’ I’d like to take him by the heels and snap his head off!” I judged it best to keep silence. Again he listened to the singing until it stopped; then he groaned, “God! Why did I—why did she have to see Nutting looking like a corpse? I shall see his face twitch until I 2 ‘Aw, break away!” I could hold in no longer. ‘‘That’s all rot! You have stewed yourself into a morbid mush of melancholy! You can’t see the woods for the trees. She didn’t see what you thought she saw. And there was nothing tragic about it. Nutting got his—just a plain knock-out; you’ve been there, and so have I; and save for two black eyes he is none the worse for it. Go home!” But he would not move, so I broke my vow and went out North Avenue 'to reconnoiter. Adventure There was nobody there but little Bill, and the Girl made no pretense, but came to the point, ‘‘What does ail Cousin John?” (By the way, their mothers married second cousins.) ‘‘We have not seen him fo’ days and days!’’ I had promised not to tell, but little Bill came to the rescue. ‘He thinks he is dis- graced,” he drawled, “‘because he thumped Nutting in your presence.” “‘How mawbid! He just had it to do/ Any man I know would be disgraced if he didn’t beat a man fo’ usin’ such language befo’ a gyehl! I think he was mighty fine!”’ She flushed slowly, but finished bravely, An’ I cert’nly do want to see him!” Little Bill got up and made his graceful little bow, with something sad in it, ‘‘We’d all be giants, if we could, Lady Fair! Good night!” ‘“You’d better stay—just gentlemen,” she said softly. And he flushed, that once, anyway—over the little hand she gave him. We came away together and went straight to the sulking hero. ‘You large lobster,” Bill began in his husky drawl, ‘““what did you take that girl for, a New England school-marm, with an anemic soul and a hypertrophied conscience? Man, she has Cavalier blood in her! Id like to build a fire under you!” _ Then he went to sit in a window-seat, and. looked out into the tops of the elms; while I gave Trainor an almost verbatim. report. All guards down, he listened with that odd rabbit movement of lips and nostrils, and said no word until I had finished. _ Then he heaved himself up and expanded his great lungs until he seemed to fill the room. He came to where I stood watching, gave my hand the least little timid pressure, and clattered out of the room. | I watched his bare tousled head disappear, and turned to Bill, ‘‘What’ll he do now?” “The most improbable and extravagant thing you can’t imagine.” WHEN Bill wandered in the next morning, I knew from his specially bored and blank features that there was news. “Well,” he daintily removed one glove, “fold Bird-o!-freedom’s pinched!” “T expected it. For what? Assault?” “No, Nutting’s not advertising his lick- ing. It’s for pigeons.” ‘“‘H’m!” I had stopped in my dressing. cComicbook C©