Adventure Magazine Cover, June 18, 1921 — page 118: what you’re looking at

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

108 and gets behind a pile of cord-wood. Me and Dirty has both got watches. Mine says ten minutes to ten, and Dirty’s says fifteen minutes after ten. “Mine’s right,” says Dirty, positive- like. ‘That watch ain’t lost a second in two years. I can correct the sun with that watch, yuh betcha. “We’re late!” “Yuh can’t beat a Swiss movement,” says I, ‘“‘and that’s the kind mine is. It is now ten minutes of ten.”’ “Youre crazy, Ike. Lemme tell yuh something about this—huh—listen to your 209 watch and see if she’s runnin’. “Tt ain’t,” says I, after listening. “TI for- got to wind it last night.”’ “Me, too,” says Dirty. ‘ ‘‘“My——, we’re in an awful fix.” Comes a few yells and a few shots out on the street and then the clatter of six-shooter explosions. “The celebration is on,” says I. “It was due to start at ten o’clock. Let’s take a chance. I hope to gosh them broncs are there for us.” I takes my life in one hand, a six-shooter in the other and leads the way. ‘There’s more than two broncs at the rack, but there ain’t no time to figure out owner- ship, et cettery. There’s considerable hu- manity in sight. ‘Take that gray one, Dirty,” says I, and then I happens to think that we ain’t figured out who is to go inside the bank. ~ “Wait a minute,” says I. ‘Do you go inside or do I, Dirty?” “Tt makes no difference who goes in, Ike. We'll be deader than in about three minutes anyway. You go in, will yuh?” ‘‘A-a-a-board!”’ says I, and hops on to that mouse-colored bronc, which looks like it might go as far and fast. Somehow I don’t no more than hook the right stirrup before I realizes that I’ve made a mistake. I hears Dirty sort of hiccup a curse, and I’m betting that he has the same thoughts. I don’t know about that mouse- colored bronc going fast and far, but I sure know it went high. Also, I soon realized that my saddle wasn’t cinched tight. Every time we went high and handsome I can feel the slack in that cinch and it makes me nervous. “Git to out of the way!” I hears Dirty yelp, and into me comes that gray bronc, sunfishin’ like forked lightning and whistling like a scared buck. It’s about sixty feet across that street to the front of Adventure the bank. Know how long it took us to get there? I ain’t there yet, if you’re curious to know, and this happened a long time ago. But Dirty got there. Yessir, he got there. At the edge of the sidewalk his cinch busted and he went right in through one of the front windows. He went in feet first, into the window with the sign painted on it, and he stopped with one leg through the cashier’s window and the other leg waving for help. My bronc stopped bucking long enough for me to see all that and then we turns right around—me and that high-minded piece of deviltry—and we bucked straight for Buck Masterson’s saloon. There’s a big crowd there, and they sure give us room. Some danged fool must ’a’ tried to kill that bronc, but missed and one bullet burned my ear, and the other peeled my knuckles on my left hand. Yes, we went in. By that time the cinch is back in the bronc’s flanks, and I’m riding wild and free on its rump, with the saddle going further back all the time. I didn’t dare to fall off, so I done my dangdest. I got a view of scared faces as we made a mulligan of a perfectly healthy poker game and then I went up and jammed my head through the bale of a hanging- lamp, and took it with us, hanging around my neck. The back door was partly open and we took it away, hinges and all, and then we’re out in the open again, with Piperock, et cettery, howling in our rear. I banged the bronc with my hat and swung him back to- ward the street, where I runs into Dirty, backing across the street, shooting every direction. I skids that bronc to a stand- still, and yells— “Get up behind me!”’ Dirty stubs his heel and falls down and danged near shot me. Then he gets to his feet and runs up to me. ““Get on behind your” he yells. ‘“‘How in can I? You’re as far back as you can get! Ill get on in front.” Dirty got on. The first jump that bronc made landed him up on its neck, where he locks his legs around under its jaws and away we went, me way back on its rump and him almost on its head, while Piperock fired salutes and cheered in a loud voice. We turneda corner and bucked around and around until we slammed up against COmicloo oN ) C©