Adventure Magazine Cover, June 18, 1921 — page 143: what you’re looking at

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

Fadi Fascon 17) irom SS ut Bs “ pe \ a \ i 3 ) oe fe ) 7% A aa K? 4 ‘Four of fhem Were oo 2 £ Foolish’ Author of ‘The House Opposite.” HE pool in. the woods was so black under the shadow of the rock pines which grew to its very rim that its unruffled sur- face looked as solid as polished basalt. Where the sun’s rays struck through the topmost branches they pierced the clear depths like golden spears, revealing great trout on the sandy bottom, their fins lazily stirring to overcome the specific gravity that gently urged them surfaceward. The four figures which loomed on that side of the pool whose waters were deepest struck an incongruous note in the idyl. Reading from left to night, as the group pictures in the Sunday magazine sections do, they were: Sergius Stepoff, a Russian wrestler; Ichyaga, a lithe Japanese ju-jutsu expert; a young American light-heavyweight boxer named K. O. Mooney; and a cockney welter who called himself ’Arry, and was so hailed by his fellows of ‘Spike’ Halloran’s stable of near-champions. It was mid-August, real dog-day weather, and the canny Spike had sent them out of the city where men burrow underground into dark cellars and imbibe vast beakers of such cold and unwholesome fluids as may be obtained for a price. “Don’t let ’em do nothing but road- work,” he told faithful Andy, the negro cook and handy man who had charge of the camp. “TI ain’t gonna let ’°em have no mitts nor nothing. I want ’em to eat and sleep and go in swimming and just loaf where there’s no-skirts nor roof gardens nor cellar dives. Time enough to groom ’em for the Winter when they come home in October. Put- ting on weight won’t do no harm so long’s it’s good meat and not hot dogs and cold suds.” “Yassir, boss, I got ya,” said Andy. There were five small tents pitched in a huckleberry pasture a quarter of a mile from the swimming-hole, each with its mos- quito-bar and bed of pine boughs and army blankets. In Andy’s cook tent ‘was a good oil-stove and kitchen equipment. The table was an affair of rough planks with a canvas awning for rainy days. The location was on the land of a farmer who lived four miles out from a small village which lacked even a picture palace, and whose prosperity was derived from the products of the soil. Hulbert, the taciturn man who gave Spike Halloran’s athletes the run of his pasture and the privilege of the pool and a spring of ice-cold water, alsg fur- nished them with milk, bread, butter, vege- tables and eggs. Other supplies were fetched to them from the general store at the village. If the four strong men have been Jeft poised for a little time on the rim of their natural swimming-tank, it is for a purpose. They were in no hurry to immerse them- selves in the cool depths. Each in his own way posed, clad only in bathing-trunks, the surprizing thews and muscles of his dis- ciplined body startlingly outlined against the dark-green curtain of the pines. * This is an Off-the-Trail Story. See first contents page. 133 COmicloo C©