Adventure Magazine Cover — page 91: what you’re looking at

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

Oh, Lordy, Lordy! He himself put on the jewels he took from Said Afzel, and—sitting placidly on Most Alast, the black elephant, with the two crimson stripes of the Mogul on his nose—he looked the king he was. The hearts of his old soldiers, who thronged to us from the hills, were uplifted at this sight. Always Shirzad Mir directed me to travel in a circle, through Anderab, Ghori and Bamian, back to where we had started, at the Shyr Pass. In spite of danger he did this, and we all wondered, until one day we came to the desolate aul of Iskander Khan, as Shirzad Mir had planned. When the old Kirghiz chieftain came forth and lifted up his hands at the sight, Shirzad Mir in his gorgeous robes dis- mounted from Most Alast and embraced Iskander Khan, while we all watched. Then my lord pomted to the caravans, to the camels, the treasure and the women. jer i use ‘ ae xy OH, LORDY, Lory if Z 77 “Choose,” said he to Iskander Khan; “it is all yours for the asking.” But Iskander Khan would not, saying that he was unworthy of such honor. Whereupon Shirzad Mir called for us all tosee. He loaded the horse Iskander Khan had given him in his need—the fine Arab stallion—with pots of gold and gems, and put the bridle in the Kirghiz’ hand himself. He put a robe of ceremony on Iskander Khan and girded on him the sword from his own waist. “This man,” he said loudly, “shall be always at my left hand until he dies. Those who do homage to me shall bow to him also.”’ In this manner did Shirzad Mir pay his debt to Iskander Khan. He was a good man. A man among ten thousand. Aye, among ten times ten thousand. f~ feriy i v “S\ wn Patirson span Auihor of ““High Pockets,” “Lynch Lawyers,’’ etc NDY BALL was so thin he couldn’t shift his chew without losing his balance; he owned more freckles to the square foot than a leop- ard with the measles, and he was in love usual and extensive. He’d a girl in Swing Valley—hasher at the hotel—and two in Torpedo, till they found each other out; he’d another at Morgan’s, one at Deep Creek, and the Rafter O cook, all in one year. Which is siftin’ along, I'll say. Outside of his being a idjit thisaway, six foot tall and a little bow-legged, Andy was right human. If he ever used any judg- ment I didn’t know it. J remember special the time he turned his loving nature loose on a three-hundred-pound squarehead young lady with her features all in the middle of her face and a figure so graceful she looked the same anywhere you stood. Her name was Susy Svenson, and her pa owned a claim back of Baldy. One day, when Andy and me were riding in from the Blue Creek range, we stopped for the night at Ole Svenson’s. From that fatal moment, as the man says, his loving nature like to been the death of Andy. After supper him and Susy got almighty friendly—she could cook like a house afire— and nothing must do the lady but she’s got Comicboo “SCO