Adventure Magazine Cover, August 18, 1921 — page 167: what you’re looking at

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

Tackline’s Adventure clock in the church steeple. When it points to ten, lay back your ears and tuck in your whiskers. Then’s when the fire- works begin. Now get the big idea! The waiters change shifts at ten o’clock. The dopey ones lay below and the new ones come on deck. We'll go over now—if we can get through the gate—and order the finest of everything, and keep orderin’ till ten o’clock. When the old waiters go in and before the new shift comes on the joo, for a minute the sidewalk’s clear of josé’s men. That’s when: our dirty work comes in. Now get this straight. Grab every chair and table you can carry— they’re of very fine quality wicker—and start for neutral ground with your full- speed pennant flyin’. And for- the love of Margarita, work fast!” “You got to hand it to the kid. He’s clever,”’ commented Timmy. So the swimming party sauntered slowly toward the rococo stucco gate of the town. Here, during the day, a gendarme was stationed to prevent the exportation of certain foods to the more lucrative market of Gibraltar. At night the chief himself kept watch, to prevent the entrance of sus- picious-looking characters. It was not that Algeciras felt herself so saintly. It was only that she feared to become less so. In Algeciras, however, Tackline had ceased to be a suspicious character. He was now a thoroughly discredited character. His besetting weakness had been his ability too quickly to catch both the spirit and the spirits of the town. “Ha, eet ees my friend of many other visits who honors us with the call this evening,” the chief greeted Tackline. “You come to spend the evening—here at the gate with me? Or will you begin immediately the journey home?” with a suggestive flour- ish of his saber in the direction of Gibraltar. “Why, we just thought we’d sort of drop over and say hello to you. I was just sayin’ to my friends here that it had been a long time since you had walked down here to the gate with me and showed me the way to go home—with the business-end of a sword.” 3 Tackline felt reassured when the chief smiled at this. In fact, he immediately proceeded to make himself entirely at home. Leaning against one of the stucco pillars of the gate, he flipped some tobacco into a creased sheet of rice paper. 161 “Like to roll yourself a -fool-killer?”’ he asked, dangling the muslin sack toward the chief. S's HERE Tackline won the evening’s sium victory. Whether he knew it or not, he was tempting the chief with his pet vice. Better even than wine, he liked good tobacco. But that vile Spanish weed! Eet ees imposeeble! Eet put moss on even the smoothest tongue! But Vir- ginia leaf, so mild, so sweet, so full of aroma! Like a breath from the hills of Malaga! “You are only more thoughtful than you are generous—my friend.” The chief smiled cordially through a noseful of smoke. “Well, I just had a hunch you’d enjoy seein’ us. Pretty dopey job you got here, ain’t it? No chance to talk to no one; no chance to park yourself, no chance to step over now and then and rush the growler in that little blaze-of-glory that’s all lit up in there!” Timmy Rafferty was standing by, on one leg, trying to help Tackline in his intrigue. Here was his cue. ‘“That’s José Toredo’s place. I hear he’s got some real champagne from Seville now. ‘The sea-lawyer in our compartment said it was ‘soft and warm like they’d poured pure Spring sunshine into the bottles? ” Timmy made a long, moist, gurgling sound with his lips. “Tt’s the big piece of luck, chief, that there’s nothin’ much doin’ here at the gate tonight,” continued Tackline, following Timmy’s adroit lead. “Drag yourself over with us and have a snifter of this high- toned blood-warmer. What do you say? You can lamp the gate from there as well as from here.’’ “Oh, sefior, do not tempt me from the duty,” replied the chief with a diminishing tone of conviction. “Aw, forget it. It’s a sixty-forty propo- sition anyhow. You ought to be guardin’ the gate; we ought to be holdin’ a swimmin’ party. So, what’s the odds? Come on, snap out of your hop. Step along pronto with us. We'll sit on the curbin’ and shoot snipes—I mean, smoke cigarets. What do you say, old-timer?” “Perhaps eet ees poseeble for me to go with you for one leetle moment, my gener- ous friends, and I can from there discover C© EloOOLKKS ©