Adventure Magazine Cover, November 10, 1924 — page 43: what you’re looking at

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

The Casual’s Return breakfast therein, the woman would ex- tend the apron. Eadie peered into it with horror and then looked at the two children that clung to the woman’s skirts. “Look at this, Jake,” he exclaimed. ‘‘T’ll tell you that people are hungry that will do that, stand by the garbage can and beg for the food we chuck away.” “Hey!” called Jake to the men in the kitchen. “Why don’t you give this poor old bird some chow?” “Who the ’s issuin’ out this chow?” spoke a voice from the back of the kitchen. “We ain’t puttin’ out to all the Frogs in France. You guys crab ’cause you ain’t got enough yourself, an’ here I often go without my own meals so’s you'll be sure to have enough.” There was a howl at this, and consider- able reference to raspberries. “Well,” said Jake, after silence had been restored, “I ain’t got the heart to turn away from a woman and kids in hunger and dis- tress, even if I go hungry myself. Here, old girl, catch this,” and Jake, with a heavenly expression, tossed the woman his ‘Sheet of matzos. “‘Jake,”’ said Eadie as the two hunted a soft spot to sit down, “the Y. M. C. A. lost a good man when you went in the army. You and your kind heart ought to be in charge of a hut somewhere.” The sergeant sat down very slowly and gently. “‘What’s the matter?” asked Jake. “You still sore from the wreck or have you been ridin’ a horse somewhere?” “Neither one,” said Eadie, “but I have to sit down slow and gentle. If I sit down quick, I’m liable to sit right out of this blouse.” ‘Man,’ agreed Jake, “‘it does fit you kind of soon. Be careful when you open your mouth you don’t get your jaw caught under the collar.” eraaa AFTER breakfast they sat in the Foe barrack a while, and Jake smoked “*"" one of the cigarets from the pink package. ‘“‘What’s doing this morning?” he asked Fadie. “T didn’t hear there was a thing. Let’s go have a look at France.” ‘““Come on, let’s. We won’t lose no boat nor nothin’.”’ Eadie put on his blouse, not forgetting 4I to mutter about its size again, and the two went out. It was a glorious Spring day. In the United States the trees were still lifeless, but here they were fully leafed out, and the grass was quite high. The camp was pitched in what had been an old cornfield, for the furrows were still plainly visible. In the lower end of the camp were several com- panies, newly landed from a transport. In the upper end there was a labor battalion of Algerians. “T see they’ve still got us in a stockade,” remarked Eadie as they neared the gate. There was a fence of barbed wire about shoulder high that ran around all sides of the fields in which the camp was pitched. “I wonder if that wire is to keep us in or to keep the Frogs out.” “It ain’t much use for either,” com- mented Jake, ‘“‘so long as they leave the gate open. I don’t see no guard, do you? Maybe we ain’t allowed out!” “They wont do any more than chase us back again, will they?” “No, guess not.” “Then come on.” They went out. ““Let’s go down to that town there,”’ con- tinued the sergeant, pointing to where a white house or two gleamed at the end of what seemed to be a street. They trudged toward them through the white dust. “'T’yer Jeft,” said a voice in back of them. Both turned. ‘T’yer left!’ said the man behind again, motioning with his left arm. His right hand held a pistol, and its muzzle shifted from Eadie to Jake and back again. “Put up that gun!”’ croaked Jake. “Git goin’!”’ barked the man. “Take that road to your left and go in the gate! Now move before I git impatient!” ‘“‘What’s eating you?” asked the sergeant. “We haven’t pulled off any murder. Maybe you think I stole this blouse and I don’t blame you, but it was given to me, I assure ou.” “You two rums on your way,” replied the other man. ‘‘Guard house ho!” Eadie looked at the other more closely. He wore an American uniform, leather puttees and a cartridge belt, Western style. He had an unpleasant face. “What do you think you're gettin’ away with?” the man inquired. “Git!” cComicbook C© =