Adventure Magazine Cover, October 10, 1921 — page 118: what you’re looking at

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

108 weel as tae get me worrked up, an’ then ye maun wet ye’er thrapple. I'll fix up anither life-saver. If it’s gey strang, it'll mayhap steemulate yer brain.”’ ‘““Ye’re shoutin’! Gimme two more, an’ T’ll fix Kelly so he’ll go home in his shirt!” ‘Here ye are! Fix him all ye wish, but honestly, mind! I'll hae nane o’ yer evil tricks. Ye’re a talented rascal, but ye munna swindle the man. If he wad only swindle himsel’, I’d dee happy.” McWhinnie paced up and down the room with gathering anger. “Vell be rememberin’, Boozy, that the mine Mr. Kelly was eenstrumental in rob- bin’ me of, was no’ my ain, but the prrop- errty o’ a lassie wha had gi’en me her power of attorrney tae run it for her. him —parrdon me for swearin’—he pit me in a vera bad poseetion wi’ the lass, an’ hurrt her eenterests, an’ I’d no’ be sorry tae see him bitten himsel’. Man alive, I wish he wad buy the King mine, an’ eenable me tae pay the lassie back what she lost! “Juist ye tak’ a look at the mine, Bill, an’ tell me what ye think it’s worrth, I'll mak’ a strang appeal tae Kelly’s better feelin’s. Mayhap the Lord’ll wark on his conscience. But—dinna ye be saltin’ it! I’ll favor no sic doin’s!”’ “Never fear, Doc. I'll give it the once- over. Bet I can find somethin’ pretty good there!” “Mayhap. Ye’re a guid lad, Bill, if ye didna drink mair than’s guid for ye. I’m in the mind tae gie ye a coorse o’ Chlorid o’ Gold. Ye ken the stuff. It’ll cure any auld toper o’ his drought. Ye need it bad. I'll pit. the bottle on this shelf tae remind me, an’ some day I’Il fix ye up wi’ it.”’ “Not me, Doc! Dang it, man! I wouldn’t lose this thirst for all the money in your old tobacco box. Put it on the shelf all ye like, but ye’ll never put it in me! “Maybe no! But it’s there, in case ye change yer mind. I'll gang noo an’ get my hat. I’m gaun doon tae the brook tae get a bit 0’ sphagnum. I’m makin’ a bit rockery, an’ I ken juist whaur tae get the richt kin’ o’ moss tae stick in in a hurry. Ye'll gang wi’ me?” “Sure! Get yer hat. I'll be ready!” The doctor left the room. As he shut the door, Boozy cast one glance to the shelf where stood a vial of Chlorid of Gold, in suspiciously close proximity to a hypo- Adventure dermic syringe. He grinned, winked, and murmured: “The Gold Cure, fer old Boozy Bill! Not in a month o’ hot Sundays!” McWhinnie came back, rigged for his job; and the two went down through the little strip of jungle to the quebrada that supplied the house with water. There, by the cool stream, the doctor patiently explained the nature of the mosses there, some of which, he said, would not bear transplanting; while others would take root at once and continue growing. These last were what he wanted for his rockery. pearance of having been there from the first. He disliked the band-box appearance of an obviously new garden. Boozy at last bade him good-by, and started up the road leading to the valley. As by an afterthought, the Scot called to him. “Oh, Bill! Ye’ll maybe remember the tale aboot the mine, aboot the rich vein that the natives say King’s miner coverred up? There micht be something in it. If Kelly should find it, noo—”’ Boozy grinned to himself. “Maybe ye’re right, Doc. Ye’re no miner, an’ it might be better than ye think. If ye had the guts, now, it might be fixed—”’ “Na, na! No dirrty wark! Ye’re ay thinkin’ o’ yer sinfu’ ways! Qn yer road, ye rufhian!”’ Boozy turned away, chuckling. He loved the choleric, upright doctor, whose benefactions to him had not been limited to lavish drinks. McWhinnie had helped him out of tight holes, and pulled him out of a tropic fever complicated with alcohol. He would return the favor if he could. But the Gold Cure! The very thought made Boozy thirsty. ie his den, smiling over “Holy Willie’s Prayer,’ when a wild-eyed Boozy flung the door open and burst in with a yell. “Bill! Hae a drink!” the doctor offered automatically. But Boozy’s answer as- tonished him: “Drink me eye! Doc, I’m sick! I been seein’ things all day! Pink crocodiles! Fer God’s sake gimme that Chlorid o’ Gold!” ; TEN hours later the doctor sat in DOOK They would give all the ap-— C@