Adventure Magazine Cover, April 1916 — page 216: what you’re looking at

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

218 At last they came. Abe Bernstein burst through the door to the dressing-rooms, clad in trousers and undershirt, carrying coat and collar over one arm, the hand of which held a bag which gaped open. He half - dragged, half-carried the staggering form of Marty McGuire, who probably had not yet recovered sufficiently to help him- self, Marty had Abe’s bath-robe draped over him, and continually stepped on the edge of it and lurched forward, thus adding to Abe’s difficulties. At this point loud cries of “Fake!” “Give us our money!” served to quicken the oup. Mr. Crabbe leaped to the ground and assisted Abe to throw Marty into the ma- chine. The bag followed, Abe’s coat and collar and shirt followed that, and Abe him- self was next. Mr. Crabbe was in the front at the wheel and the machine responded to his manipulation, getting into high in re- markably short order and taking the turns until the road was reached as if it had enter- ed a race. : On the road the same illusion was kept up. Mr. Crabbe drove desperately and without heed to speed laws or limits. Be- hind him Abraham Bernstein cursed piously and forcefully, directing his remarks at the still groggy McGuire. “Tt’s a nice mess already that you’ve got us in!”’ he said, among other things. “What for did you want to go in like you was mak- ing it a killing? By Moses! I thought it would be a good-night for Abey when you landed that haymaker on me. And it was to be a finish fight, and you haven’t no better sense than to go out as if you was fighting a four-round prelim. Oi, oi! A finish fight! Seven rounds only, and I had to knock you cold as a smelt, you low Irisher! What for did you do it?” “G’wan!” said Marty sullenly and feebly. “You wasn’t goin’ to make me the goat if I knew it!’ “Make you the goat!’ screamed Abe. “What is it, I make you the goat? Ain’t it the truth that you ain’t got the sense of a goat yet? Ol, oi! Actually it’s a fact. Holy, this guy thinks he could lick me and tried to do it! You saw it yourself, Holy. Now, ain’t it a fact?” “Yah!” snorted Mr. Crabbe in disgust. “‘T seen it and beat it to get the wagon ready for the getaway. And I heard pistols Adventure crackin’ and guys yellin’ ‘Fake’ and ‘Give us our money,’ and I knew what we were up against. And the train leaves at six-fifteen, and it’s only two-thirty now. Nearly four hours—and it don’t take nowheres near that long to get up a lynching down in these parts.” ‘“‘Ain’t there an earlier train,’”? moaned Abe. ‘“‘There’s one at three sharp—but its eight miles if it’s a foot, and I donno if we can make it.”’ ‘“‘We got to make it!’’ said Abe fervently. Crabbe responded by opening his throttle another notch. “T don’t care if we don’t make it,” groan- ed McGuire. “I don’t get off nowhere, no- how.” “You!”? snorted Abe. ‘‘Low life! We could leave you to be strung up and not shed a weep for you!” Marty sniffled and shrouded himself in aching gloom. The miles flowed behind them and no sounds of pursuit could be detected. But they knew that motors would be on the road behind them, and those pistol-shots spoke sharply of the temper of the crowd. They were taking no chances, and kept up their dizzy gait until the streets of Fort Jones were under their tires. Even then they did not hesitate to defy the speed ordi- nance, and came up to the hotel so fast that the brakes were barely able to bring them to a stop and the slipping tires smoked on the pavement. THEY sprang out, even Marty McGuire displaying some alacrity. Into the lobby they rushed, look- ing anxiously for signs that might tell them whether any one had thought to anticipate them by telephone. Apparently none had, for the place was calm. Only a fat man stood behind the clerk’s desk, while a travel- ing salesman leaned over it and conversed. The three men rushed to the desk. “Where is this Darrow fellow?” cried Abe, the spokesman for the trio. The fat man glared at the remarkable costumes exhibited to his gaze. “Gosh!” he said. “It’s the pugs!” “Tell us quick, where is this feller?” screamed Abe frantically. The fat man was galvanized. “Him!” he said. “He jumped his job this morning without giving me a chance to 1 on = COMmMichoooks (©