Adventure Magazine Cover, October 10, 1921 — page 107: what you’re looking at

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

The Sign of the Oolah “Tf he knew what he was gettin’ in them nuts,’ mused Mr. Gilfish, “‘he’d whistle! I certainly admire for to see how you handled him, kunnel!’’ Colonel Tunk blew his nose and departed as one to whom failure was a stranger. Mr. Gilfish strove to keep up with him for a parting word. ‘‘O—upside down an’ backward,” rumi- nated Mr. Gilfish. ‘Well, I guess even Sheriff Zeb Peters wouldn’t see no blockade- runnin’ in an O upside down an’ backwards, for I cain’t see any sense in it myself!” Colonel T. Sambola Tunk looked at Mr. Gilfish as at one to whom the inner mys- teries could no more be revealed than they could to a salt codfish, and Mr. Gilfish shriveled under the silent rebuke. He watched the Colonel mount his buckboard, adjust his panama hat and drive off the river road to the Tunk plantation. ‘“‘O— Upside down an’ backward—”’ cogi- tated Mr. Gilfish. ‘‘Makes you think of a bunghole, but I cain’t see anything in it. I don’t give a durn f’r any Oolahs, but I’d hate to buy coconuts an’ get stuck f’r the milk.” At four o’clock Colonel Tunk, seated on the front gallery of his plantation house, heard a series of long toots from the leafy bend of the river. It was unusual for the old packet J. J. Crosby to let loose such a jubilant blast, and the colonel wondered. But later he heard the slap-slap of her stern paddles turning out and up for the Natchez run, and reflected serenely that while he had good assurance that the pro- hibition officers were watching all importa- tions of groceries and stock for the Tunk plantation store this week, the world could see that the colonel was not delivered so much as a gumdrop either by rail or river. There was nothing untoward in Colonel Tunk’s gracious benefaction to the mission- ary bazaar. | An hour later he drove in town and wa where everybody in the county could find him Summer-long; the cane-bottomed chair on the Maddox House porch nearest the drug store corner. Far be it from the colonel to.cast an eye on what the drayman hauled from the river landing this trip. Main Street lay under its leafy peace disturbed only by Doc Horn lugging the mail from the 5:35 train to the post-office, and the Maddox House Dominick hen who stuck her head through the fence and looked =e 97 at the tacks on the soles of Colonel Tunk’s shoes. But half an hour later when the colonel was reflecting on why Mr. Gilfish, his satellite, was not in his accustomed place on the vesanda, he was startled at an unwonted spectacle. Crossing the railway tracks, turning in from the river road was Stivers’ motor truck. On the seat by the driver sat the Rev. Richard B. Tuttle. Back of him stood Sheriff Zeb Peters. Sitting on the tail-gate with his legs swinging was Mr. Gilfish. And in the truck body rattled and shook and gurgled a low pyramid of brown, hairy, menacing objects, each one of which—there, under the. sheriff’s foot—seemed to turn accusing eyes upon Colonel T. Sambola Tunk. THE procession slowly passed. Colonel Tunk sat rigid but out- wardly unperturbed. Mr. Gilfish cast a scared don’t-recognize-me look at Colonel Tunk. Preacher Dick seemed happily pleased with all the world. “Evenin’, kunnel!’’ sang out Sheriff Zeb heartily. ‘““Evenin’—seh.” Colonel Tunk breathed it, slgwly relaxing. The outfit chugged on up Main Street. Colonel Tunk watched it fascinatedly. The truck backed up at the church basement door. Out of this swooped a chorusing mob of Boy Scouts, Ladies’ Aid misses and workers for the Arabian bazaar. Delightedly they whooped and fell to unloading Colonel Tunk’s gift coconuts out _ of the truck and down to the lost abyss of the First Baptist basement. The sheriff yawned and watched the procedure. Colonel Tunk felt chills titillate up and down his spine, and started at a touch on his arm. © ‘“Kunnel!”’? whispered Mr. Gilfish, and sank in his chair. ‘“They got ’em!” “Got ’em—seh? I passed the landin’ | and saw no freight there.”’ “No, that durn fool steamboat captain saw a big snag hangin’ in the wharf so he toots and goes on up and unloads the freight at Bigg’s Point! I sees what’s what, and I follers up the river, and meantime this steamboat man telephones the preacher to come get the coconuts, bein’s they were consigned to him. So along comes Dick Tuttle with Stivers’ truck just as I’ was gettin’ ready to save ’em——’’- “You, seh?” exclaimed Colonel Tunk. ° COniclboooks Cc C@