Adventure Magazine Cover, April 3, 1918 — page 120: what you’re looking at

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

118 “Dangerous?” “Dangerous.” Scotty wore an air of supreme indiffer- ence. He began to hum a little song. “Nemmine dronin’ no tunes. Whadda yuh mean by ‘dangerous’?”’ “T was just thinkin’ o’ Harry Slay.” “Harry Slay! Him! What’s he got to do with Dorothy Burr?” “Oh, nothin’, nothin’. Richie makin’ out?” ‘“‘Nemmine Jack Richie either. He'll keep better’n that tune. What’s all this here mystery about Dorothy an’ Slay?”’ “Tt ain’t no mystery. He slimes ’round Dor’thy all the time. Goes ridin’ with her a lot, an’ most every week the stage freights in a big box o’ candy for him for her—all the way from St. Paul, too. Why, say, he even picks flowers out in the woods for her.” Had Slay been in the habit of construct- ing bouquets of rattlesnakes Scotty’s tone could not have expressed more horrified disgust. Johnny was disgusted, too, but in a different way. ‘Who is this man Slay?” he demanded. “He owns the Broken Dollar S’loon— runs six games in there. I thought yuh knew.” ‘“‘He’s new since I was here.” “Veah, sifted in less’n two year ago, bought the Savin’ Grace off Riley, renamed her the Broken Dollar, an’ waded into business. Ill say this for him: he’s an educated gent, a stayer over any distance with the women, a cold proposition with the men, an’ I ain’t got no more use for him than I have for a toad. Not so much. Yuh can squash a toad.” ‘“‘An’ he’s goin’ to see Dorothy?” ‘“‘Whadda you care?” “T don’t—only—only it don’t seem right somehow. Not that she’s anythin’ to me more’n a friend, but he’s a pup, that fellah.”’ “Shore, but how yuh goin’ to stop it? He’s acted real decent—so far. An’ if yuh plug him or somethin’ Dor’thy*mightn’t like it. Yuh can’t never tell about a wo- man.” “But he ain’t the gent to be hangin’ ’round a nice girl like that. He’s got a bad eye.” “Two of ’em, an’ I ask yuh again, what yuh goin’ to do? She’s a free country.”’ “Veah, but—why don’t yuh talk to Mis’ Burr?” How’s Jack ‘and sliding over the floor. Adventure > “An’ get a jawin’? Do I look like a fool?” “Sometimes,” said Johnny, “but y’ ain’t to blame for that. I think it’s yore cem- plexion or somethin’. Leave my _ hoss alone! Quit it now! We was talkin’ all friendly about Dorothy an’ yuh gotta go raisin’ around. What are we goin’ -to do?” ‘“WWep” “Shore we?” ‘An’ do what, huh?” “Show Mister Slay he ain’t wanted.” “Not me, Johnny. I’m shore too old for them kind o’ fireworks. It’s yore play.” ‘Seein’ as nobody else wants to pick up a hand,” Johnny observed with sarcasm, “IT guess maybe it is.”’ Scotty said nothing. Having sown the seed he was content to await the harvest. “Goin’ out tonight?” inquired Johnny, when the scattered lights of Paradise Bend winked at them across the night. “Guess not,” said Scotty. ‘“Too late. We'll go tomorrow.” “ll be out later—with Telescope,” ob- served Johnny. ‘‘Not much use goin’ out till after he comes. Besides, we gotta look at them tracks.” “Shore,” concurred Scotty, grinning into the darkness. ‘“They’s all kinds 0’ reasons for yuh to stay in the Bend,” he added under his breath. ‘Whatcha say?” Johnny questioned sus- piciously. ‘Talkin’ to the hoss.”’ | FROM the windows and doorways By of store, saloon and dance hall, st flaring fans of yellow light lay across the sidewalks and stretched with diminish- ing intensity into the dust of the street. In the How Come You So Dance Hall two fiddlers were dispensing the heartsome strains of the “Arkansas Traveler’ and heavy boots and light slippers were scuffling An intoxicated gentleman was roaring the ‘“‘Days of Forty- Nine” in the Three Card, and from the Jacks Up came the merry cries of the bar- tender and the proprietor as they strove to eject an unwelcome customer. “Good li’l town,”’ was Scotty’s comment. ‘All o’ that,” said Johnny, watching with admiring interest the unwelcome customer issue from the Jacks Up, skitter across the Gomiicsdoo S (C@