Adventure Magazine Cover, February 3, 1921 — page 132: what you’re looking at

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

126 recruited at Memphis, Tennessée. Mr. Morel arose and doffed his top hat de- lightedly. By his side Mr. Watts-Wright looked composedly off over the now jeering multitude. The bandsmen broke into a happy jazz, and-the two strangers roared approval. They beat Octavus Morel over the shoulders and slapped Watts-Wright on the knees and howled some more. “Why, Slive Carter, don’t you: know me —Morel, that give you boys the big nigh a “Forget it!’ yelled Slive. ‘‘Here’s Petey, too, and Watty and—grovel, you base dogs down there on Main Street, and out of the way! But where do we go from here?”’ “Tt dunno,” grinned Mr. Morel, “‘but the cops told us to start!’’ The happy young men looked back when the foremost wagon joggled past the hotel in the waver and glare of the gas flares which Mr. Morel’s Senegambians had fes- tively lighted for the occasion. Beyond the red and yellow chariot of state which con- veyed the jazzing party came a wrinkled and diminutive elephant, led by a flat- footed son of Ham; a sooty giraffe, four frowzy ponies, a wagon of assorted mon- keys; and three ostriches, with a keeper, closed up the cavalcade. And from the joyous ebony-hued drum- major who strode ahead to the last tattered camp-follower of the Morel fortunes they all looked hungry and unwashed, but filled with a great and expectant hope as they turned fond and beaming eyes forward to young Mr. Watts-Wright, the angel. The word had gone swiftly about.among the der- elicts of Meta Morel’s aggregation. Mr. Watts-Wright had taken them in; they were all going to eat, and their salaries were to be guaranteed and legal experts hired for their troubles; and even, if needful, the gen- erous Mr. Watts-Wright would see that the untamed Igorot bandsmen got home to Memphis, Tennessee. So it was a joyful and lusty smear of smoke and color and yells that defiled past the Maddox ‘House and up Main Street to quiet suburbs. The village police chief shook his head wearily to one of the private sleuths who still looked warily after the procession. “Don’t worry, man—let ’em go! They ain’t any permit for a parade, least of all at midnight, but once they get outside the town limits it’s none of my funeral! Watty Adventure . Wright belongs right where he is, leadin’ a busted-down, -fool circus out to Frei- hut’s nut factory, and I hope none of ’em ever comes back!” ‘Well, he can’t bother Dippy McGuire with all that yellin’ goin’ on,” sighed the plain-clothes man wearily. “I guess we may as well turn in.”’ And they saw the last red smoke and heard the final yowl of the Igorot jazzmen from the leafy shades of the river-road; then silence. KO) Bill McGuire raised his head, smoothed his hair, lay back on, the pillow and sighed. 3 ‘Now, I know I’m a bit off—for I just heard Watty Wright!” ‘“AIST—Dippy!” “Eh? Where’n gs ‘Under the bed, Dippy. Keep quiet.” “How’n you get under my bed? I’m in a sanitarium, by gee!” “That’s good.” Watty’s head came cautiously up beside the pillow. He reached a hand to stroke Bill’s in the dim light. “T crawled in here, Dippy. I’m a nut, too, Bill.” “No, you ain’t. Nuts belong in the dormitories. In this cottage bunch we’re just patients; it depends on how much you pay, you see. How’d you get here, Watty?” ‘Easy,’ whispered Watty. “I went to the wash-room, climbs out the fire-escape and sneaks over here and up through the kitchen. I had your room spotted right-o. Say, any nurses or anything around?” ‘“‘They’re kind o’ careless, Watty. But what’n thunder és “Neve’ mind. We come to get you. Slive Carter and Petey got my big car down at the bridge. We’re goin’ to snake you over the State line, and Governor Jerrold’ll never let Maryland authorities get you back. You remember Bob Jerrold, don’t you—before our time—’98, I think, but— Slive and me and Helen Wilkinson framed it all up 2 : “Helen?” Bill started under the covers. “Oh, Watty! She still cares for me?” “Sure! Youre all right. You been put upon, Bill, railroaded into this dump when you were still scrambled from that fall at Syracuse.” “Oh, Watty,” said Bill wearily, ‘don’t CORICLOO S (C@) f