Adventure, August 1917 — page 157: what you’re looking at

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

Be Sse ) Keospohiec f ¢ x re . of ¢ mS <td 4 h ‘ 4) — Author of “Magpie—Diplomat,” “Sixteen to One on Friday,” etc. 66 KE,” sez Magpie Simpkins, pointin’ down th’ trail, “‘th’ feller what said, ‘Th’ worst is yet tocome,’ must ’a’ meant that outfit comin’ our way.” I takes uh good look and agrees. In th’ lead is Ricky Henderson, on his calico bronc, and behind him is three figgers on burrows. Th’ leadin’ one looks like uh cross between uh Holy Roller proselyte and uh fence picket. Th’ legs of th’ critter is bent back at th’ knees to keep its feet off th’ ground, an th’ rest of its body ’pears to have been soaked in starch before it seasoned. It’s wearin’ uh swaller-tailed coat, but- toned at th’ top, makin’ it swell in th’ breeze like th’ wings of uh turkey-buzzard, and th’ peaked, side-whiskered face which bobs at th’ top is crowned with uh hard hat. It is also wearin’ black-rimmed specs, and enough black ribbon floats from th’ top to furnish mournin’ fer uh wake. Th’ next in line is uh fe-male person, and uh glance shows that she ain’t built fer neither speed nor comfort. Th’ pore li’l burrow she’s ridin’ is wig-waggin’ uh dis- tress signal with its ears, and threatens to cave in at th’ knees in uh short time. Th’ next in line is one uh them human carbuncles. He’s so danged fat that his clothes ache, and he has to lift his yaller eye- brows plumb to th’ top of his bald head to git his eyes open. When I first sees his face I’m inclined to git th’ skin of uhaig to put on it and draw it to uh head. Behind this caravan loiters five burros and they’re so danged loaded down with plunder that all yuh can see is their ears. While me and Magpie stands on th’ steps of our cabin, at th’ Silver Threads mine, this aggregation peerades to uh standstill before us, and that she-packin’ burro hee-haws with relief. “Here we are,” states Ricky, turnin’ in his saddle and grinnin’ at his followers. “Thank goodness!’ snorts th’ fe-male. “T feel that I’m jolted to a shadow. Shall we dismount?” “Ricky, yuh might make us used to yore friends, and tell us why you terminates th’ peerade at this point,” sez Magpie. ‘“‘This person,”’ sez Ricky, pointin’ at th’ lean critter, “is Perfessor Phinney. Th’ lady is his wife, and this here robust party is Doctor Doolittle. They’re from th’ East—’”’ and then he turns to them: “Ladies and gentlemen, this slender party with th’ hairy upper lip is Magpie | Simpkins, and th’ bow-legged party beside him is Ike Harper, his mate. Now that yore properly introduced I’ll pilgrim back. Au revoir.” . “Yuh will—in uh hearse,” snaps Magpie. “‘Come back here, yuh blamed coyote and explain why yuh shirks yore duty. What’s th’ great ideaP”’ “My duty is done,” states Ricky. ‘“‘These here persons desire to hire compe- tent persons sol brings’emuphere. Every man in Piperock holds up their hands and swears that they ain’t competent, so what couldI do? YouandIkeshore must be. I reckon th’ perfessor can tell yuh what he 155 COMIGIOO S CO 5}