Adventure Magazine Cover, April 3, 1918 — page 96: what you’re looking at

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

94 down the street again, and I starts for the door. I said I ‘‘started,”’ and that’s as far as I got. Pete Gonyer’s pet coyote pup must uh wanted uh railami, too, and it wasn’t below its dignity to come right into uh saloon to get it either. In they comes, crowding each other for first place, and starts making a three-ring circus out uh Buck’s place. I'd tell uh man that there was something going on in there. That stilt-legged, overgrown fool- hen sure can cut circles, and that pup ain’t no slouch either. All outdoors seems to beckon that bird, but he don’t sabe mirrors. He cuts his last lap about two feet in the lead of that pup, hops high, wide and handsome to the top of the bar and meets itself in Buck’s bar-mirror. Bounce? Say, that bird simply turns over in the air and comes back like uh rubber ball. The coyote is yelping its fool head off, trying to climb the bar, when that mass uh feathers and legs hits him dead center on the rebound. Scenery Sims is just staggering in the door when that pup opines he can hear his maw caJling him, and he tangles with poor little Scenery on his way out. Scenery loses his feet, so, as long as he ain’t got no visible means of support, he sets down on the back of his neck, and that demented thing that Magpie bought meets its original owner right in the doorway and they goes into the street together. ‘“Six-te-e-e-e-en!”” shrieks Scenery, claw- ing at his head, where it had banged against uh chair-leg. ‘“‘Ninety-one,” croaks the judge, clawing at the bar-rail across his lap. “Pass,” declared Buck, vacant like, and just then ““‘Doughgod” Smith weaves in. He looks us over, foolish like, squints hard at the judge, under the rail, and then shakes his head and starts for the door. “What’s the matter, Dud-Dud-Dough- god?” stutters Buck. “Te-de-de-delirium tut-tut-tut-tremens,” stutters Doughgod, right back at him. He flops his arms, and sighs deep. “No use,” he states. ‘Must be uh lot uh lye in hooch that’ll make uh feller see things like that. It was standing down the road with its head under uh hard hat— uh yaller one!’ He shrieked the last sen- tence, and lopes out to his bronc, and away he goes. “TWead under uh hat!’ whoops Scenery. Adventure “My ——! Hid out like uh ostrich!’ And then he lopes out of the door. “TY got uh claim to settle, too,” announces the judge. He slides out from under that rail, hitches up his belt and gallops after Scenery. Magpie ambles in the door, snorts the dust out of his nose, and Chuck Warner is right behind him. Chuck looks like he’d been through a revolution. He weaves over to the pool-table, gets down on his knees and searches the floor. He shakes his head, solemn like, and searches his pockets once more. Pretty soon he gets back on his feet and wobbles up to the bar. “Buck, you got any caster ile?” he asks. “T had all that raffle money in my pocket, and I reckon that danged cross between uh greyhound and uh duck must uh ate it — up with them tickets. I can’t find nothing but uh five-dollar bill in my pocket.” ‘““Let’s see the bill, Chuck,” says Buck, and Chuck hands it to him. “Thanks,” says Buck. “It ain’t much but it will help to pay for that glass.” “Dog-gone yuh, Buck!” wails Chuck, leaning against the bar, “that bird ain’t mine. It lays between Scenery Sims and Judge Steele.” Ene it does!” squeaks Scenery from the doorway. ‘‘That bird is too active to lay.” He walks over to Magpie, and slams that yaller hat down over his head until his ears stand out like sails. “Take your danged pot hat, Magpie!”’ he snaps. ‘Nobody ought to wear uh hat like that. Will some strong unwounded man go out and bring in the judge? He took that thousand-dollar bird, beast or reptile by the leg while I takes the hat off its head. Id uh carried him in but I ain’t able to do much. I suppose I got to own that bird.” | “Don’t worry too much about it, Scen- ery,” advises Buck. “If the judge opines that his number wins you got to fight it out among yourselves. If the judge don’t survive I reckon he’s got an heir some place to take it up.” “Air !? squeaks Scenery. ‘‘He was trying to get some when IJ left. That thing can give uh mule high, low and the game and win.” Just then mn comes the judge, with Tellurium, Half Mile and Dirty Shirt GOMIGIOO S (C@