Adventure Magazine Cover — page 91: what you’re looking at

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

Too Much Progress for Piperock | ) “Haw! Haw! Haw! Mrs. Smith is goin’ to imitate— Haw! Haw! Haw!” “Haw! Haw!” howls Wick. “My wife looks as much like a storm as yours does like a raindrop, Pete.’’ ‘My wife,” states the judge, standing up, “my wife ain’t goin’ to do no —— fool thing of the kind. I’ll show her = “Set down!” yelps Scenery. ‘Set down, you old Blackstone blatter! This is once when you don’t hand down no decisions.” “Git off the stage and let ’er rain!” howls Telescope Tolliver. “‘TI’ll see it through if I have to wear a slicker.” “Ready for us to play?” asks Bill Thatch- er, kicking Frerfchy to wake him up. “Use your own judgment, Bill,” says I, “T’ve done all I can, and now I’m goin’ to let nature take her course.” I starts to step back, through the curtain, when ‘‘Polecat”’ Perkins yells— “Ike, I was wrong—you’re only half- cow.” I gets back inside. Them women are all scared plumb stiff, but Mrs. Smith wheezes— “Ladies, we’ve made our bluff—let ’er go!” Just then Bill Thatcher’s instrument be- gins to wail and wail, shutting off all chances for Frenchy Deschamps to be heard. “Sweet Marie!’ howls Mrs. Smith. “‘Gee cripes, don’t he never learn a new tune?”’ I ducks out of sight and the curtain slides back. aN about dancing she forgot every step. i! She trots out on the stage and starts something like Kid Carson used to call “Shadow-boxing.”’. Then she turns around about three times, stubs her toe and falls down. Standing in a line across the stage is the rest of them females, with their hands up in the air like they was being held up by somebody with a gun. ““A-arabellie!”’ wails Wick. woman, git out of sight!” Mrs. Smith gets to her feet and yelps back at Wick: “Git out of sight yourseli—if you don’t like it!, Vl teach you to flirt with a dancer. start the music over again, Bill.” “Em-m-m-i-lee!” shrieks Sam _ Holt. “Ain’tcha got no modesty? Go put on your shoes and socks!” Bill Thatcher starts squealing on his instrument again, and Mrs. Smith starts doing some fancy steps. IF MRS. SMITH knew anything en) Semen 85 Wow! Here comes Judge Steele, Art Wheeler, Pete Gonyer, Testament Tilton, Wick Smith and Sam Holt, climbing right over the top of folks. “Git ba-a-a-ck!”’ squeaks Scenery, waving his shot-gun. “Stop it! Whoa, Blaze!” “Look at the wild man!” howls somebody, and here comes Magpie across the stage hopping high and handsome. ‘Stop ’em, Scenery!” whoops Magpie. “Dog-gone ’em, they can’t bust up my show!” : Man, Ill tell all my grandchildren this tale. Them outraged husbands came up on that stage, while Yaller Rock County yelled itself hoarse and made bets on whether it would be an odd or even number of deaths. Magpie hit Pete in the neck and Pete lit with one leg on each side of Bill Thatcher’s head. Wick Smith got hold of his wife and them two started a tug of war. Me and old Sam Holt got to waltzing around and around, which wasn’t a-tall pleasant, being as I’m barefooted and Sam ain’t. I seen Mrs. Wheeler and Art locked in mortal combat, and just then I hears Dirty Shirt Jones yelp— “Heavy, heavy hangs over your head—”’ I whirls just in time to see what’s coming, but I can’t escape. Dirty Shirt has turned the atmosphere loose. Them four he- sheep—four ungentlemanly woollies, with corkscrew horns, are buck-jumping across that stage, seeking what they may hit. I swung around to meet the attack, and I reckon the leading sheep hit him a dead - center, *cause I felt the shock plumb to me. Maybe it hit Sam a little low, because it knocked all four of our feet off the floor, and the next in line picked us in the air and stood us on our heads. I seen Wick Smith, braced against the edge of the stage, trying to pull his. wife over the edge, the same of which is a invita- tion to a sheep, and ‘the old ram accepted right on the spot. Mrs. Smith grunted audibly and shot into Wick’s arms. Scenery Sims starts to skip across the stage, but a ram outsmarted him, and I seen Scenery turn over gracefully in the air and shoot, regardless, with both barrels of that sawed- off shotgun. Them load of shot hived up in the chan- delier, the same of which cut off our visible supply of light. I heard the crashing of glass, and I figures that the hallway is too crowded for COMmiCOoolks (C@