Adventure Magazine Cover, October 10, 1921 — page 86: what you’re looking at

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

76 “Queer how much worse it is when you’re right in it. We’ve heard it all the way up two thousand miles of Amazon, but “But you’re right beside the orchestra now. Position is everything in life.” The double-edged jest made Knowlton glance sidelong at his mate. Of the tall, eagle-faced Scot’s past he knew little beyond what he had seen of him in war, where he had met him and learned to respect him whole-heartedly. From occasional remarks he had learned that McKay had been in all sorts of places between Buenos Aires and Nome; and from a few intangible hints he suspected that his “position in life” had once been much higher socially than at present. But he asked no questions. ‘Some orchestra, all right,” he responded casually. “ Plenty of 7j jazz. It'll quiet down after awhile.” For a time they stood leaning against the wall, staring abstractedly out at the dark. One by one the domestic animals ceased their clamor and settled themselves for the night. The jungle din too seemed to dimin- ish, though perhaps this was because the ears of the men had become accustomed to it. At length through the discordant sym- phony boomed the voice of Tim. “By cripes, I know now what folks mean when they talk about a howlin’ wilderness. Always thought ’twas one o’ them figgers o’ speech, but Ill tell the world it ain’t no foke. Gosh, think of all the things that’s layin’ out there and bellerin’ and waitin’ for us pore li’l fellers to come in amongst "em and git et up.” “You'll find the same things in the cities up home,” said Knowlton, a bit cynically. “Different bodies and different methods of attack, but the same merciless animals under the skin. Snakes in silk suits—foul- mouthed alligators in dinner-jackets— hunting-cats and vampires, painted and powdered—and all the rest of it.” ‘“Veah. Ye said a mouthful, looey. But say, Tommy’s shovin’ some grub on the table. Mebbe we better hop to it before the flies git it all.” After a glance at the vicious ate already begun by the aforesaid flies, the pair adopted Tim’s suggestion and hopped to it. Manfully they assailed the rubbery jerked beef, black beans, rice, farinha, and thick black unsweetened coffee which comprised the meal. All three were wrestling with chunks of the meat when Tim, facing the Adventure door, stopped chewing long enough to mutter: ‘“Dutchland overalls. Here’s the goose- stepper.”’ The heads of the other two involuntarily moved a little. Then their necks stiffened and they continued eating. Tim alone stared straight at a burly black-whiskered Teuton who had halted in the outer door- way. And Tim alone saw the ugly look crossing the newcomer’s visage as he gazed at the khaki shirts, the broad shoulders under them, and the unmistakably Irish— and hostile—face of Tim himself. Catching the hard stare of the red-haired man, he of the black beard advanced at once, his eyes veering to the door of his own room. Straight to that room he marched with heavy tread. He opened the door with a kick, shut it behind him with a slam. The three at the table glanced at one another. “Say what ye like,” grumbled Tim, “but me and that guy don’t hold no mush-party. I don’t like his map. I don’t like his man- ners. And he hooks too much like the Fritz that shot me in the back with a kamerad- gun after surrenderin’. I was in hospital three months. D’ye mind that time, looey?”’ Knowlton nodded. He remembered also that Tim, shot down from behind and almost killed, had reeled up to his feet and bayoneted his man before falling the second time. Wherefore he replied— ‘He isn’t the same one, Tim.” “Nope,” grimly. ‘“That one won’t never come back. All the same, if you gents want to chew the fat with this feller I’m goin’ slummin’ with me friend Joey Mouthgargle Nabisco Whoozis. Then I won’t be round here to make no sour-caustic remarks and gum up yer party.” “Might be a good idea,’’ leh 3, con- - ceded. “There he is now, the li’! darlin’! Hullo, Joey, old sock! Stick around a minute while I scoop a few more beans. Be with ye toot sweet—vite—presto—P D Q.” Wherewith he demolished the rest of his meal with military dispatch, proceeded doorward, smote the grinning army of Remate de Males a buffet on the shoulder, and vanished into the night. A moment later his stentorian voice rolled back through the nocturnal racket in an impromptu para- phrase of an old and highly improper army song. GComiicivook C@