Adventure Magazine Cover, October 1911 — page 31: what you’re looking at

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

Hasy she was, nevertheless, more concerned with the effect upon her dwindling bank-account than upon her health. She had confidently expected to meet here—of all places—a gamester worthy of her skill, and thus far she had been sadly disappointed. On the previous evening, after one gossip-laden hour in which she had given the guests of the hotel the opportunity of enjoying her dancing and criticizing her costume, she had, it is true, at the invitation of a big person from Buffalo—a gouty ship-owner with an amorous eye, who was taking the baths as a slight sop to the Cerebus of the bon-vivani—trailed off to the card-room, only to find, however, that for once the McCann luck was pitted against an experi- ence so thorough and a skill backed, or so she half suspected, by such questionable practises that, instead of trimming him easily, she had herself been trimmed; no pleasant matter for reflection on a beautiful October day. | So Carmelita Sofia, rocking idly on the Arlington porch, thought of her corpulent and none too attractive antagonist rather vindictively, as she grumbled to herself: “T’ll have to stay, now. I’m too near broke to move on—unless I can sell the car; that would be a pity, considering I’ve had it only two weeks. No, I’m going to get my money back from that big mullet, or know the reason why!” Half an hour later, the “‘big mullet,” whose name, Morris Manahan, meant less to Carmelita than it did to his political henchmen, a lot of dock-wallopers in Buffalo, saluted the pretty occupant of a big, golden-brown car as it rolled swiftly down Central Avenue. Two days before, Carmelita Sofia, urging her own efficiency, had dismissed her chauffeur, claiming that his precautions bored her to distraction, and she had been obliged to endure some quiet chafing from the Big Person relative to her suddenly diminished enthusiasm; so that it was,with a little glow of triumph that she acknowledged his greeting as she passed. He took in the trim figure in its Frenchy suit of brown suede with some- thing more than admiration in his greedy little eyes. “By the Old Harry!” he muttered to himself, “she’s a thoroughbred, all right! Never batted an eye-lash when she handed over that five hundred last night. Most women in her place would have squealed. Gold 977 I guess I taught her a thing or two about seven-up,” he chuckled, not ill-naturedly. “T’ll have to look out for her, though. I’d be willing to bet my hat she comes back at me.” Which was exactly what Carmelita Sofia was planning to do, the difference being that she had no intention of either descend- ing to his methods of card-playing or of being satisfied with an equivalent for her losses. rey BUT the day was too gloriously Ame beautiful to be spent in resentful SSS calculation. With the irresponsible joy of a child over a new toy, Carmelita swung around curves and steered peril- ously close to tree-trunks and fences, her heart singing to the rhythm of the engine. In a spirit of joyous bravado she revolved the possibilities of making Little Rock in time for dinner. Unconsciously she ran the motor to keep pace with her thoughts, and became aware of the speed at which she had been going only when from the crest of a hill she caught a view of the steep grade before her. Carmelita Sofia uttered a startled ex- clamation in which there was more of ex- citement than fear, and, with a rapid re- view of the theories acquired on level ground, threw off the switch which shut down the engine, while with one foot hover- ing anxiously over the brake, she com- mended herself and her car to the Patron Saint of the amateur motorist. The auto- mobile flew swiftly down on its own impetus, and in response to the exhilarating sensa- tion Carmelita threw back her face to the cloudless Arkansas skies and, regardless of instructions, took one hand from the steer- ing-wheel long enough to wave a friendly greeting to the surrounding Ozarks. She had about arrived at the conclusion that running an automobile was a mere matter of nerve, when she suddenly realized that, midway of a very modest little hill, her car had come to a dead stop. ‘‘Oh, what on earth is the matter now?”’ exclaimed Carmelita Sofia vexedly. In her bewilderment she spoke aloud, and was somewhat startled to be answered from the side of the road. A man who had been resting under a tree disentangled himself from among his numer- ous parcels and rose slowly to his feet. He was of medium height, loosely strung to- C© Gbooks C©