Adventure Magazine Cover, February 3, 1921 — page 131: what you’re looking at

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

Hooley’s Hen Hastener Carnival at Leesburg tomorry, but Meta and me broke up, so that’s off. And when Skip an’ me had to unload here desperit- like, I picks up the evenin’ paper and sees that you’re back home again. I says to Skip: ‘This boy is the big spear in this ol’ town; and don’t I remember Watty Wright’ when we shows in New Haven an’ all them college boys come yippin’ in and grabs the performance? Hey, wasn’t I a good feller, though, and let Watty and Dip McGuire and all them rich boys kyoodle round all night, and somebody give a pint 0’ booze to Henry, the big monk, and he ain’t ever been right since.’ ”’ “Bring him up,” responded Mr. Fraley interestedly. ‘“‘Sunshine—fresh air, beau- tiful thoughts—the great bammy heart o’ Nature, and buildin’ fence and a chapter 0’ ‘Worry’ 9 “Oh, that’s all right, kid me, Mr. Watty! But wasn’t [ the good sport though to stand f’r that New Haven rumpus, and Meta hollerin’ f’r cops?” “Oh, yaws,” drawled Mr. Fraley. “Oh, certainly!” “Well, now, can I camp ’em all down on your farm? Skip an’ me jes’ rushed out there; and say, it’s great—all them unused barns and the big lots; and the old place all shut up, so we wouldn’t hurt nothin’.” “Tt couldn’t hurt nothin’,” assented Mr. Fraley philanthropically. “Say, it’s grand ’at I can fix all this on the phone! We jes’ got to get housed up somewhere quick. I jes’ says to Skip, ‘If I ever git a word to Watty Wright he’ll do what’s right.’ Mebbe you’d like to-come > down and see us move an’ give these small- _ town cops the laugh. The boys’ll certainly give you the glad mitt—our big canvas- man, Steve, ain’t got through talkin’ yet about how you laid him out with a bottle at the big college mix-up. And maybe you’d enjoy some 0’ the freaks.” “Freaks?” queried Mr. Fraley dispas- sionately. “Oh, yeh! Any—chickens?” “Chickens?” gurgled Mr. Morel joyously. “Don’t make me laugh! Time you git the grease paint off’n these old carnival buz- zards they ain’t much chicken. Oh, you Watty boy—I know you!” Half an hour later, still with his certain air and a large black cigar, young Mr. Watts-Wright strolled through the hotel lobby and out to Main Street. A shifty- eyed man sitting behind a pillar arose and 125 whispered to another, who smiled distantly. “It’s straight. He’s adoptedacircus. I just listened in on the phone. He ain’t goin’ to pull anything about McGuire to- night. The local chief just said he was glad this burg was dry and tight now, for in the old days Watty Wright never came home without stagin’ a bust-up that was all they could handle. -He ain’t got his old week- end college gang along anyhow this trip.” A block down toward the railroad station, as young Mr. Watts-Wright was gazing in- terestedly at a mob of boys and spectators who were surging about some moving gas flares and high-wheeled gaudy wagons, a short, bull-necked young man in a striped sweater came stealthily alongside and plucked his sleeve. “Watty, old scout, is it all right?” “Oh, yeh!” Watty gazed down at him blankly. “Why, Watty, what you handin’ us? We got the big car there waitin’ for the jump-off. Did you get in to Dippy and wise him up?” “Oh, yeh!” Mr. Watts-Wright moved majestically onward. , The bull-necked young man stood staring blankly. Then he sidled back to the drug- store and whispered to a tall young man who was having a soda. “Say, what’s got into Watty? He looks like he was full of hop, give me the glassy eye and a once-over and slid on his way!”’ “‘Tt’s the cops,” retorted the other youth. “They’re watchin’ for a frame-up, and Watty’s wise to’em. He said it was all set about Dippy, didn’t he?’’ “Ves. But, oh, Lordy, look what he’s doin’ now! -Climbin’ up in that —— band- wagon alongside that guy in the silk hat! Say, that coon band is startin’ to play! Half-past eleven and Watty’s leadin’ a cir- Rise, rise, ye terriers, and give 199 cus parade! °em the Boola! Watty’s home again “It can’t be done on ice-cream soda!” whooped the other young man, “but lead the way! If poor old Dip was only with us!” ; A moment more and Octavus Morel, the worser half of the now dismembered Meta Morel’s One-Ring Circus and Carnival heard two distinct and glad yells down by the fore-wheel of the band-wagon, and two lusty young men were climbing up by forcé and violence among the Igorot bandsmen, COMICLOOOkKsS * (C@