Adventure, December 3, 1920 — page 119: what you’re looking at

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

Grim Jokes be so run down from bein’ a mule you'll not be _ sleeping—you’ll be unconscious. Savvy?” Barley did not answer. All at once M’lord exploded in a blast of laughter, as a triumphant i viking might have done. ‘ ““He-he-he! A man for a mule!” he gloated. “What a joke! What a jokel” It became very hot. Not a fleecy cloud appeared in all the blue sky to get between the sun and them and mellow the hard, hot rays. But Jones was not downhearted. Throughout the afternoon he gloated. and chuckled and went on. “What a joke, what a joke!” he kept saying. “A man for a pack-mule. Nobody ever gets ahead o’ me.” “Giggle your head off!’ the Big One flared once, just once, ‘You can afford to be drunk on air.” He shrugged his huge left shoulder that bore the sack of nuggets. Jones, from habit now, flung out the whip and made Barley groan. “Sure,”’ Jones agreed, with a world of mean- ing. “I can afford to laugh. They’s years of easy living in that sack you’re luggin’ for me. Gold! Gold!” He smacked his lips in anticipation. He was mad over gold. And for three mad, heat-stricken days, hunting for water, dodging mushrooms of dust that marked riding men, whipping, chuckling, groaning from a lacerated body, they kept on without a change between the two. At night the thin and restless wind of the mesa ate through their sweaty garments like acid and . made rest misery. It was like a journey in a nightmare. ext LOWARD noon of the fourth day they ae ‘ came suddenly to a strip of black fy porous lava-rock—light cinders. Off to the left across the scattered mesquite-clumps was a low hill that, Jones decided, would afford a view of the country and show him perhaps how to dodge any men riding across—all men were to be avoided so long as the bag of gold remained in Mexican territory. “Hi, Big One,” he called. “You go on straight across this light rock, hear? IT’ll hurry on to that hill and meet you on the other side. Savvy?” Barley paused, faced around, swayed dizzily. Jones stopped abruptly to keep from getting too close. For he never got within reach of the ham-like hands. Once Barley had got a rock, and when M’lord ventured fairly near, had flung it. ae shot at him with the pistol, grazing his n Barley sont tried that trick again. Now, Big Enough uncorked a canteen and lifting it with hands that shook, drank a few swallows. “Down! Down with it!” bellowed M’lord. 109 It was obvious that Barley brought the can- teen away by sheer will-power. Jones watched to keep him from overdrinking. A brilliant thought seized him “T’ll take the canteens with me. off,” Barley obeyed stupidly. He seemed to be He was swollen near the end of his tether. Drop ’em ‘wherever the skin was uncovered, his arms, hands, neck, face. Especially was his face swollen, and bloody—for he had had no chance to wash—and was blackened with scabs. The hole in his cheek was scabbed over. The beard had grown stiff on his face. He scarcely would have passed for a human being in an exhibit of men. M’lord took up the canteen and headed for the hill, with a parting warning for Barley to plod on and meet him on the other side. Nothing alarming showed up from the hill, so M’lord lost no time in starting back to the rendezvous. ‘Though he was hard hit by the journey also, yet the intoxication of the gold was holding him up with the incentive to get to Texas soil. No day yet had seemed so promising. Surely by the next day they would find the Rio Grande. “What a joke,” he chuckled. “What a yarn to tell the kids when I’m an old man. A man foramule. Oh boy, nobody gets ahead o’ me— man er brute, male er female—er God, even!” WHEN he arrived at the spot where Barley should be, the giant was not ; there. He called. No answer. “Don’t hide from me,” he shouted. -“T’ll pick the meat off o’ your bones when I find No living thing but a buzzard flying high was in sight over all that desert of heat and sun. Panic seized M’lord. He began to run about, looking into all the mesquite-clumps and shout- ing. In two minutes or so he rushed up to a larger bunch of the greenery than before and came face to face with Barley. Barley sat there, looking up at his master - in calm contempt. “Why didn’t yuh answer me?” demanded, backing off to safety. “You got uneasy about me, didn’t you?” Barley made answer. He flicked the hint of a derisive grin up at his boss. They got under way in saline: But they had not traversed a hundred feet when Jones recognized that there was something different about the Big One. New life was in his every movement. All at once Barley threw back his head and roared with laughter. It made chills run along Jones’ spine. “What’s the matter there?” M’lord barked. For a little Barley kept on with his great M’lord COPMICOOOKS (E@)