Adventure, February 20, 1922 — page 89: what you’re looking at

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

~ Wise Men and a Mule there, and I’ve studied my gestures aplenty, : and I know the words fine.”’ ‘We've got to put the humps on Maud S,”’ says Wick. “We can hang some stuff over the humps, so nobody will know she ain’t a ca-mel. You-know how they does ina circus, Magpie?” Me and Dirty, not wishful to get the least hazy, decides to buy us ‘some more bottle cheer, instead of carousing around with the common herd, and we communes with each other in my cabin, until the shades of night have come down upon us. Then we finds our way back to the hall. We’ve got a full audience—in more ways than one. Doughgod Smith has been ap- pointed door-keeper and he annexes our guns as we goes in. “Vuh can’t take your guns in with yuh,” he states. ‘“Them is orders.”’ He’s got a lot of belts and holsters, but few guns hanging on a hook. Dirty looks ‘em over and picks out a good-lookin® gun, which he shoves down inside his waist- band. _ “Them orders don’t say yuh can’t pack a strange gun, do they?” “Not my orders,” says Doughgod. ‘They tell me not to let any man in with his gun, that’s all. You ain’t settin’ no precedent, Dirty.. I reckon every man in the hall is packin’ a strange gun, but there’s one satisfaction—they can’t shoot more than six time per each, ’cause [I’ve got all their extra ammunition.”’ I picks out an old decrepid .44, and goes inside the hall. I looks over that congrega- tion and I can’t see where Doughgod had any reasons for being cheerful. There’s at. least a hundred men in there, which means six hundred shots, which is usually plenty and sufficient. The reward notices are sure well repre- sented, and you could just about lynch the . whole bunch and not make any mistake. We finds the acting talent behind the curtain. Scenery is all dressed up in a gunny- sack gown, with a ribbon tied around his head and no boots on. He’s making gestures like a prize-fighter. “My !’ gasps Dirty. ‘‘Would yuh look at that?” Scenery jerks one fist out- ward and upward, swings the other arm behind him, like he was guarding his rear, and then squeaks: “Lo, there shineth a bright light. Let’s go to it.” -— bum! Whar-r-r-00-0-0-m-m-m-m! Mrs. Smith and Matilda goes out through “Mark an X after Scenery Sims,” says Dirty. “He won’t last.” ae We goes over where Wick is looking at Maud S. She’s still laying down and don’t act like she’s ever get up again. ‘’Fraid she’s on her last legs,’ says Wick. “Yessir, I reckon we’re goin’ to lose — Maudie.” 3 ‘“°Fraid?” snorts Mrs, Smith. ‘That de-eared hay-hound? Let her die.” “Not until she’s been a ca-mel, maw,”’ says Wick, and then he goes out to set down beside his new drum, Dirty sets down beside Maud S and takes her head in his lap. ‘‘Ain’t the Cross J quartet going to sing?”’ asks Matilda. Old Testament shakes his head. “Nope. They got mad—them and Tel- lurium. They all went home.” ‘““Tweet, tweet, tweet,” goes the flute. “Bum! Bum! Bum!” goes the drum. ‘“Whar-r-r-00-0-0-0-0o-m-m-m-m,” goes | the jews-harp. “The orchestra is tunin’ up,” observes Dirty. “We ain’t got long to live, Ike.” THEN old Judge Steele steps out through the curtain, and the hum of conversation dies down. “Feller citizens- and ladies,” judge, “the first thing on the program is a du-it. Miss Mudgett is going to sing ‘Spring, Lovely Spring,’ with the kind as- sistance of Mrs. Smith. This here is a soup- ranner and alter duit. We asks yuh to bear with the orchestra to the limit of -your patience, as this is their first appearance together.” “Who?” asks Big Foot Forrest. “All of ’em. They’re acquainted, but that’s about all you can say for ’em. All right, Wick—let her go.” ‘““‘Tweet, tweet, tweet! Bum, bum, bum, ea the curtain. Somebody laughs out loud and then comes a thud. es “All right—go ahead,” says Hair Oil Heppner’s voice. was.” The song starts and this is how she sounds: “Tweet, bum;. Spree-e-e-hing, lovely spree-e-e-hing, tweet, tweet, bum, whar- © says the “Big Foot thought he saw somethin’ funny, but he’s forgot what it — mn Pak Ps. « a es - eo > iy r-r-00-0-m, Spree-e-e-hing, Spree-e-e-hing, © bum, bum, kerong-g-g-g, tweet, tweet.