Adventure Magazine Cover — page 119: what you’re looking at

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

Ke we yer nes > ee Tillicums him,” Michael jeers. “What does you-all think he is—a oil-paintin’? Stop him, you boggle-eyed mudhen! We only got two slabs of bacon in the outfit!” But we don’t rescue that sow-bosom with- out a struggle. The Irish, man or beast, don’t give up their holdin’s without a fight, no time. An’ there ain’t.much left of that slab of grease nohow. After the excitement’s all over we chase Fagan ’way out into the brush. Then, ’cause the loss of that pork is sure enough serious, we turn in with nothin’ more’n a good night all around. But not for long do we slumber. Maybe Fagan is sore over bein’ named after a cross-eyed man. Maybe he’s plumb touchy, thataway. Anyhow, we no more’n get to snoozin’ comfortable when all hands is roused by a tremendous crashin’ around out in the brush. We slips on our moccasins an’ rushes out to where the noise is—an’ there’s Fagan again! An’ he’s sure puttin’ on some show. He’s whirlin’ an’ twistin’ an’ buckin’ an’ kickin’ an’ generally raisin’ merry cain. He'll fall down an’ right away get up again an’ start to pawin’ an’ squealin’ to beat the band. He’s a-cuttin’ up more didos than a Elk at a convention. “‘He’s loco!’ Michael hollers, startin’ to shin up a tree. ‘Climb, everybody!” he yells, soon as he straddles a limb. ‘“He’s got the rabid infantums!’’ | Believe me, we climb! The way that cayuse is cavortin’ around is somethin’ alarmin’ an’ scandalous.. We ain’t none of us ever seen no equine conduct hisself that- away before—so me an’ Ole loses no time clawin’ up a saplin’ apiece. By the time we reaches what we eoneitess a safe an’ secure perch Michael Joseph has recovered his wind; an’ so he nacher’ly starts to talk. “One of you slide down an’ make a sneak for camp,” he directs. “Get a rope an’ come back easy an’ toss her up to me. Then you kinda chase him over this way an’ I'll snare him.’’. “That’s a sure-enough cute an’ feasible scheme,” Ole declares. ‘An’ I'll take a chance. rope, we changes the modus operandi to some extent. I’m goin’ to rope this whirlin’ dervish of a cimarroon, myself; an’ when I gets him looped, I’m goin’ to tie him up to a tree an’ spit in his eye! That hammer- Ba - Only, when I gets back with the. 113 headed dodo has done lacerated my feelin’s beyond the limit, an’ I’m out for reparation.” All this while Fagan has been conductin’ hisself like a Russian dancer that’s got mixed up with a Greek balley. He gyrates an’ cavorts without no cease or let up until I surely marvels how he manages to keep his- self hair side out. In the mean time Ole departs down his saplin’ an’ slides for camp, smooth an’ easy. Right away he comes creepin’ back, a long lash-rope looped an’ coiled for action. He gets almost within throwin’-distance of Fagan when all to once that sagacious quadruped stops his mad antics an’ stands stock still. He’s done! Likewise his owner has got enough. Michael Joseph 1 is so overcome by this here ontimely an’ abrupt endin’ of Fagan’s act that he falls out of his tree. He lights i ina pile of dry brush; an’ the noise them dead twigs makes a-snappin’ sounds like he’s broke every bone in his carcass. But he ain’t even jolted. Right away he sets up an’ commences. “Now, you sway-backed pelican,” he ad-_ dresses Fagan, “Tm jes’ nacher’ly goin’ to uproot a saplin’ an’ macerate you to a pulp!. I sure mutilates you beyond repair. I’m goin’ to learn you a lot of new manners, even if you does resemble my pa’s law- brother.” “You ain’t goin’ to touch him,” Ole objects. ‘You keep offen him. He’s mine. I’m goin’ to take about four doublin’s of this rope an’ plaster enough criss-cross welts on to your near-uncle’s namesake to make him look like a blue waffle. He’s sure goin’ to— Hey! What’s this?” he breaks off, stoopin’ over an’ pickin’ up somethin’. It’s a half-eaten plug of chewin’! ’Course, right there’s the answer to Fagan’s onseemly behavior. ‘That poor, misguided nut has snook into camp while we’re enjoyin’ our second nap an’ nosed ° out a plug of Ole’s Sawlog. Which he then devours more’n half of it! An’ nacher’ly this potent diet affects him plenty stren’ous, like I jes’ describes. Well, we jes’ stand there. Soe: like “we're ada overcome. “T ain’t complainin’,’’ Michael breaks into our meditations. ‘‘Let her go as she looks, He’s a wonder. He’s sure ’way up at the head of a class. that ain’t got nobody in it but him. Tomorrow I teaches him to spit.” i€O cComicbooks ~ry ” =