Adventure, November 1915 — page 83: what you’re looking at

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

The Road’s End 8I Doran, hearing the wrangle, and being simply. ‘Because I know all about it; it unable to raise his own voice much above was the soda water that was doped. I a whisper, made a bottle of entirely useless thought it would be the ammunition. That medicine useful by sending it crashing from was my mistake. But I paid for it, and the stand at the head of his bunk to the so——” tiled floor. “You paid! What of me?” “T want to see that man,” he said when “Lad, lad,” said Doran, wistfully, ‘can’t the steward hurried in. you see why I paid? Can’t you see why I “But, sergeant——” wouldn’t tell? Can’t yousee that it was——” “T want to see him. Alone.” A sudden echoing memory came to Has- Haskell came in, pale-faced, ene kell. He took the words out of Doran’s eyed, trembling. mouth, and, as though there were some exer- “Sergeant,” he began. (Geecine * cising spell in them, in that moment the _ “There, there, boy,” said Doran, sepa- shallow-minded cynic of the squad-room rating Haskell’s aimlessly twisting hands, died, and the boy became a man. and taking one of them. “Don’t you go “For the honor of the servicel”’ fretting your head. It’s all right, all right.” “I knew it—I knew you’d understand, The volume of Doran’s voice increased a after a bit. You didn’t then; it was just a little on the last words. shooting match to you—and your own dis- “But you don’t know. I——” honor. An American soldier a traitor! How “But I do know.” Sergeant Doran’s could we tell that—to those others? And whitening lips curved into a smile. “And I so—at the end—the end!” know what you're figuring on doing. You’re “I won the match,” he cried, after a long figuring on telling me, and then the rest, interval, in a ringing voice. “And you! I and making a mess of the whole business. played the game out!” Ain’t that so?”’ Outside four bells had gone, and the last “Yes, but——”’ low note of Taps was drifting away upon the “Well, you see you mustn’t,” said Doran, winds. BY ED. L. CARSON . “you ongodly automatic, TI kin ‘tell you most emphatic You’re the darndest-lookin’ gun I’ve ever seen. They kin caJl you what they want to But this much I’m strictly on to— - You are nothin’ but a massacre machine. When a row gits started proper An’ we have to shoot to stop ’er’ You’re a little bunch of dessicated death; An’ you send your loads a-pokin Through the atmosphere a-smokin’ In the time it takes a man to draw his breath. I admit your penetration . An’ your cussed condensation, An’ as for a friend in need, you’re shorely one; But your looks are plumb unlawful An’ your shape is something awful, An’—oh——! you don’t look nothin’ ike a gun. With the risin’ generation, Bent on death an’ devastation, You’re a winner; but so long as I’m alive, = s When some maverick gets millin’, Or some outlaw needs a killin’, Let me glom my good old-fashioned F orty-five. 6 COMIC KS OOO)K< com