Adventure Magazine Cover — page 146: what you’re looking at

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

136 careless humor; and the heavy footsteps bore away Red the Gob, who had ap- proached with stealth to get a line on the _ row; but, finding nothing there to interest him, he withdrew indifferently. ‘‘Hear w’at Red says?” Billy demanded as convincingly as if Red the Gob’s word was final judgment. Red the Gob, ex-sailor and strong-arm worker, kept Tony in a state of nervous humbleness anyway. Then, as Tony was silent, but silent in the manner of a man whose tongue has been turned to stone, Billy demanded with half- tolerant inquiry: ‘““W’at ’s eatin’ youse, anyhow? Does you know dis bird ’r somet’in’?”’ And Tony lied fearfully, saying that he knew nothing about the fellow; that his sole reason for backing out of his bargain was that he felt he would get caught helping in the kidnaping; he would make enemies and somebody would bump him off, or the police would get unreasonable. Tony, much as he loved the silver clink of metal dropping pocketward, would not have mentioned Cabron’s name for a hun- dred dollars. Cabron was deadly; Cabron had friends; and Cabron had passed the word to all his friends and friends of friends to keep an eye out for Burillo. And here was the man that Cabron hunted. Tony’s fat little body was a-tremble. He shook in his shoes, being afraid of Billy the Dude and even more afraid of Silkeen Harry, who had been along when they made the agreement to stow away a fellow for a few days. But most of all Tony was ter- rified by Cabron. However, the more immediate danger is always the more terrifying. ‘“‘Now get me, an’ get me right. Youse t’row me down on dis an’ somebody—I ain’t sayin’ who, but somebody—’ll give youse a free ride in de stiff-wagon. Youse said you’d stow dis bird f’r fifty bones a day—now stick! See?” The last word was emphasized by a rapier-like thrust of the gun’s barrel. Tony grunted and crumpled. Burillo had listened with dazed attention, fearful and mystified, his back to the wall. . He leaned against it heavily, for there was no strength in his spine or knees. “‘Gwan, Tony; lead de way,” Billy said with an authoritative air. And as Tony went ahead, a push and Adventure shove with “‘Get up there,” started Burillo. He went as if climbing the gallows’ steps. Billy followed; and half-friendly he com- mented— “De only t’ing de matter wit’ youse, Burillo, is dat you ain’t got no luck.” On the landing of the first floor up they came into the sounds of half-suppressed © revelry, gay voices partially lowered, the clink of money, the click of dice, the shuffle and scuffle of feet. The men and women of the night were half furtive, even in their pleasure, relaxed, at ease among them- selves—though the crook never knows a complete unworried relaxation unless he is doped, and dope does not leave him rested. One must travel the steep, rocky, narrow road to get rest out of sleep; and the honest boob snores away his ten night hours with- out being nervously alert to mistake every creak and rattle for a fly-cop’s footfall. If he had a proper appreciation of values the honest boob would lie awake congratulating himself on his ability to sleep like a log. Tony led the way up a second flight of stairs, where he turned on a light, and, putting a key into a padlock, opened a door into a cold, windowless room, filled with some kind and another of discarded stuff, old furniture, broken, and boxes and barrels. ““Get up some blankets an’ keep ’im full o’ hot soup ’r somet’in’. He ain’t doin’ no bread an’ water. An’ f’r fifty bones a guy oughta get somet’in’. In youse go, Burillo. Don’t start nothin’ or somebody ’!1 wallop your bean. Here, I’ll let yer hands loose. Youse jus’ kipper away your time an’ dream o’ dem happy days w’at are a —— of a ways behin’ youse.” Tony shut the door and snapped the lock. ‘Give dat bird a doss an’ plenty t’ eat,” Billy repeated as he started down the stairs. “Oh, I will take-a care of heem—take-a care of heem!”’ Tony answered with sinis- ter unctuousness, glaring at Billy’s back. XVIII THE striking incidents in the lives f of night workers would naturally =~ most often occur at night; and one who made a practise of entering people’s houses would find fortune inattentive if he did not frequently get into trouble—and out again. So Middleton was neither dis- concerted nor irritated when he heard a key in the lock and knew that he was being DOOK (©