Adventure, February 1917 — page 117: what you’re looking at

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

In Self Defense out of th’ ford, that rattle-headed, Roman- nosed, off leader uh mine leans» back and lets th’ pinto wheeler into th’ stretchers. What I yells was—I begs yore pardon, - preacher, did you speak?” “Please, ” mumbles th’ party of th’ missin’ teeth. “Things are bad enough without repeatin’ your former exclama- tions.” | “Preacher,” wonders Sig out loud.. “An- other preacher in th’ country? We done got one in Piperock now, Art. One with _all his teeth, too.” , “Uh-huh, ” agreed Art. “But he’s uh Baptist. This’n is uh Presbyterian. Miss Beebee’s uh Presbyterian, and she insists on her own tribe fer th’ marriage wau-wau. Sabe?” “When is this event due to happen?” “Tonight,” states Art. “And I'll bet Buck Masterson is runnin’ rings around himself right now. We're due.” “Buck Masterson?” mumbles Sig. “T chuckles Art. don’t see——” “Nobody does either,” *‘Ain’t he gittin’ uh prize package?” Sig grunts and wonders if some of th’ buck-shot didn’t go deeper than just through th’ skin. He feels dazed like. Art Miller - is fumblin’ inside his shirt and finally pro- duces a wrinkled envelope. “T jist happened to remember it, Sig. I sees Ren Merton yesterday in Curlew and he sends you this. Wrote it too late to mail. Li’l surprise.” He finished with a wink at th’ preacher person, who is huntin’ around inside th’ wrecked stage fer his teeth. Sig opened th’ envelope and read th’ followin’ aloud: “Deer Sigismund: ' Me and Rosalind were married here today and send you our best wishes. I hated to double-cross you but I told her about our plans and she said that heeroes were born and not made and that I’d be one if I saved her from a certain bow-legged person we both know. I asks your pardon and wishes to state that I wouldn’t have done it if I had of been sober. You can have that new quirt which is hangin’ over my bunk. You know how a feller loses his head when he’s spifflikated. Yours respy Renley St. Clair Merton & wife. - P.S. The preacher what tied the not is in the stage and can tell you all about it. I hope you don’t kill him during the rescue ’cause he never asked fer a cent.” “You-you performed a marriage in Cur- lew last night?” asked Sig, and th’ preacher nods. “VYeth thir,’ he states, with his tongue explorin’ where his teeth used to bed down. “But I never wath paid a thent.” Sig fumbled around in his pocket for a moment and then hauled out a small roll of bills. a5 ““Here’s uh ten spot with my compliments, © old-timer.” “Wath he a friend of yours?” asks th’ preacher. “Well,” says Sig, feelin’? of th’ two en- velopes in his shaps pocket, “he don’t think so, but he don’t know it all. If uh man would ask me I’d say, yes.” Sig recovers his horse and pulls out fer Piperock, after promisin’ Art that he’ll send help out tothem. Buck is standin’ in front of th’ saloon and as Sig rides up he yells— “Seen anythin’ of th’ stage, Sig?” Sig tells him about th’ smash-up and then goes in and drapes himself over th’ bar. Ricky Henderson is there and they crooks elbows numerous. | “‘Where’s Ren?” asks Ricky. “I ain’t seen him since Saturday. Him and that Rosalind person is thicker than axle grease in January. Been out ridin’ every day last week. I thought you had aspirations that- away, Sig.’” “Not me, Ricky. Yore uncle Siggie knows when he’s safe. congratulate th’ bride, and then I’m goin’ to come back and fill my hide with some more absent-minded juice. So long.” He ambles across th’ street to th’ res- taurant and finds Miss Matilda tellin’ th’ Chink what to have fer supper. “Howdy,” says Sig. “I reckon I can congratulate you on yore marriage to Buck.” Matilda blushes through her whiskers and smooths her skirt. “Thanks, Sigismund. I had hopes that you and Rosalind could stand up with us, but she’s in Curlew and won’t be back. Tl have to git Miss Harris. to stand up With her?” “Ma’am,”’ says Sig, “while I admires such functions uh heap, I’d uh lot rather jist sit on th’ bench and watch ’em. Rosalind is uh real nice girl, [reckon, but her and me ain’t——”’ Miss Beebee pats Sig on th’ shoulder in uh motherly way. 0)(00)|,< I’m goin’ over to Would you like (©)