Adventure Magazine Cover, December 18, 1919 — page 147: what you’re looking at

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

; myet ; a % 5 Sas teers 2. Ne = Hyde See I DS POO ee etn ae Playing Safe in Piperock , ‘e ‘Dynamite’ Davidson and ‘Calamity’ Calkins went down there a while ago and they said they’d get him out or kill him in the attempt.” “Where is the tiger?” I asked. “Dead!” snaps Wick. ‘Seventeen men fell on her and she died of old age!” “T’ve got a scheme,” yelps Pete Gon- yer, “a dinger of a scheme. Let’s rope ‘em on to the elephant and take ’em to jail. Have pedrade, eh?” There wasn’t any need of a vote. It was unanimous. Even me and Magpie and Bosco voted “aye.” Jail looked like a happy hunting ground beside of all these ropes and tree talk. Alcibiades looked on, mean-like, dur- ing the roping. Magpie was in front, then me andythen Bosco. Somebody tied a rope to the elephant’s trunk and then we strung out like a cross between a funeral and a pe-rade. It sure attracted a lot of attention. Then we hove in sight of the jail. There is Dynamite and Calamity, busy at something. Dynamite ison his hands and knees, while Calamity stands over him.. Beside Dynamite is a wooden box with the cover off. Just then they rise up, sort of hurried-like, and see us. Alcibiades ain’t had nothing to eat for - so long that I reckon he hankered for the contents of that hox and he don’t stop when the rest of the pe-rade does. The rppe slips off his trunk and we stopped against the jail wall. “Look out, you danged fools!’ yelps Dynamite. “Get away from there!” The crowd stampedes a little ways but Alcibiades don’t move, and we can’t. “Aint you got no sense?’ wails Dy- namite. “That fuse is only three feet long!” We looks down and under the corner of the dobie wall is a spitting fuse. We, hammers Alcibiades but he don’t re- spond. “Get away from there, you danged fools!’ whoops Calamity. “Don’t talk English—talk elephant!” yells Magpie. “We hear but can’t heed.” Swish ! Alcibiades whirls his trunk sideways and we sees a stick of dynamite whiz right into Judge Steele’s stummick. The judge lit all doubled up, and the crowd gasped audibly, * 133 “Too bad,” says Magpie.. “They won't always go off.” Alcibiades digs into that bex and roots out another stick. Swish! The next stick sailed high over the crowd and we watched it drop out of sight behind Pete’s blacksmith shop. Bang! + ~ That one went off. We seen a wagon- wheel hop up and roll off the top of Buck’s place and a lot of horseshoes scatter around over the hause-tops. The next one was a line shot at Wick Smith’s wood-shed, but that one didn’t bust. The next one did. Alcibiades just gave it a nice little toss, and she busted behind the crowd, causing some to go prostrate. “Good boy!” says Bosco, and then Al- cibiades picks up the rest of the powder, box and all. ‘Everything is as quiet as a graveyard and we hears Old Testament say— “In the midst of life we are in Swish! Up went the box of dynamite straight for the crowd, and just then Magpie 9? throws himself sideways on the elephant, and the rest of us has to foller suit. We're about half-way down the side of that elephant when Dynamite’s blast goes off. I’d plumb forgot that blast. I'd say that Dynamite knowed how te use powder, ’cause the whole corner of that jail moved out to meet us. It knocked Alcibiades down but he got right up. He’s so thick-skinned that nothing could hurt his feelings. I can’t hear a danged thing. I look out at the crowd. Most of ’em are still prostrate on the ground, but I can see the dynamite box, so I know she didn’t bust. The ropes has slipped and we are ro longer on top of the brute. I’m hang- ing on the side like a pack-sack ; Bosco is draped over its rump and Magpie has one leg over its neck, while the rope holds him under the other knee, and he’s hanging on to the elephant’s ear with both hands. Out of the ruined side of the jail comes an apparition. It is covered with dobie dust and great wonderment. It weaves up to us with both hands in the air. “Don’t shoot!’ it squeaks. “I give up ? - comichbook = * SS eS | ee er P ete ee ©, the 23 eens ok: Se com