Adventure Magazine Cover — page 56: what you’re looking at

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

42 care, he printed on the glaring hot planks a big, boyish looking G. Repeating the process, he turned out an O, then a D. “G-o-d—good,” stated “‘Spade’’ Gowdy to his two companions in the shade. “Good nothin’,” corrected Jim Moore scornfully; “can’t you read, Spade? That word ain’t ‘good’—hit’s ‘Gawd!’ ”’ “Ho, him, eh? You mean our ol’ Uncle Billy in heaven we ain’t never seen and won’t till we croak an’ he tells us to go to ——? Him?” “Boys!” Obadiah twisted around, bal- ancing with a hand to the curb, and ad- dressed the three. “Oh, I wish you wouldn’t talk that way. It’s—it’s wicked, boys. Besides, it’s not giving the Creator a square deal. I just wish you’d wait a minute till I get this printed. It'll be something real nice, boys.” “Well, turn around an’ git a move on, thin,” suggested Danny Carver. “Go ahead wid yer printin’, and mind ye now, git off a new one. I’m fed up wid readin’ the old ones on ivry rock an’ plank in the coun- thry. Go on, print us a new one.” “Naw,” objected Spade Gowdy. “Let him quit right there. He’s got ’nough. That one word tells the tale. Leave her stand as it is.”’ ‘Just put ‘ain’t hit hot’ after that there word,” broke in Moore. ‘That'll be a reg lar he-platitude. Gord, ain’t hit hot! I’m like Carver, I’m getting tired of ‘Re- pent,’ ‘Seek ye the Lord,’ and so forth, staring me in the face from every stone in Oro gulch. Give usa lively one, ‘Parson.’ ”’ “Nope,” Spade Gowdy insisted stub- bornly, “it’s my well-curb and it’s my say what goeth thereupon. I say “You’re wrong there, Spade,” argued Moore. “You agreed to let Obadiah print any dad-gum thing on it he wanted to, long ’s he’d build it for you. Leave it to him, but for gosh sake let him pull off a new one.’ With much stirring and many gyrations of his tongue against his cheek, Obadiah had placidly gone ahead, unmindful of the argument, and evolved the righteous sen- tence: God is not Mocked., “*Gawd is not m-o-c-k-e-d.’ Mock-ed. Moc-ke-d.” Spade Gowdy struggled with the letters. ‘“‘Neck-ed—hah, neckkid! Ol’ parson out there says Uncle Billy Gawd Adventure ain't neckkid. How’s he know? Heh, ‘Par- son, how’d you know He ain’t neckkid? Tell us that!” Obadiah arose. “Boys, I don’t want to force the Word on you too much, but hark ye!’?’ Obadiah’s meek tones suddenly became clarion clear as he quoted: ‘ ‘Unto him that blas- phemeth against the Holy Ghost it shall not be forgiven.’ Luke twelve, ten.” Stepping humbly to another side of the curb, he knelt, stirred and printed. “Wow,” mocked Spade,. “‘ol’ ’Postle Paul sure turned on the gas that time. Won’t be forgiven, eh? What’s the idee to beller so about that?” ‘Say, Spade,” Carver began earnestly, “faith I do wish ye’d a leetle more eddica- cation; then ye wouldn’t be foriver danglin’ the sword of Damocles over us this way. If ye don’t belave there’s a Creator, keep shut about it like I do.” “Well, we-l-l!”’ gasped Spade in feigned astonishment. ‘Why, hello, St. Peter. When’d you quit tendin’ bar in the Nug- get Saloon and begin distributin’ tracts. Say, you red-headed Irishman, if you want to begin preachin’, get a paint-pot an’ go to it—but come first inside an’ paint a sign ‘Bartender Wanted’ and let me pay you off. he 4 Carver only swore. Presently, craning, the three shifted their positions in the shade to see what Obadiah had produced. Whatsoever a man soweth, Moore read the words quizzically. ‘““Whatsoever a man seweth?” repeated Spade wonderingly. They waited in silence until Obadiah had finished the third side before they ven- tured out into the dazzling Arizona sun to view the result. That shall he also reap. Spade stared at Moore in blank unbe- lief. He started to speak but caught his word half uttered and doubled in raucous laughter. ‘““Neckkid,” he gasped, ‘‘seweth—shall al- so rip. Haw, parson, you gotteth off a new one on me. Come inside an’ have a drink on the house.” Obadiah waved his brush in lieu of reply. On the fourth side he was laboriously print- ing his final shot. (E@IPMICElovexe) cS (E(@)