Adventure Magazine Cover, April 1916 — page 143: what you’re looking at

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

Letters Up! parcel. I hope you will like the things. I knitted the muffler myself. If you are lonely write to me and I will answer. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. ELsI£ BAIN, 47 Trowbridge Road, Kensington. Fullick sat hunched over his treasures, weeping softly, bitterly. It was not a pret- ty thing to see that rum-soaked old tramp crying like a woman. I turned away and waited. After a while I spoke to him. I suggested that he answer the child and thank her for her gifts. “You do it for me, matey,” he urged be- tween gulps. “I ain’t skilled at letter writin’. Besides, me ’ands is cramped with cold an’ wet. You do it.” ‘“‘What shall I say,” I asked, taking my letter-pad on my knee and arranging the candles. ‘*Jus’ tell ’er as ’ow I got ’em—an’ as ’ow I was glad—an’ as ’ow I’m a wore-out bloke an’ not no ’ero, but ’ope she won’t be sorry ’er parcel didn’t go to a real Tommy, up in the trenches.” And that is about what I wrote her. Fullick approved of my effort, heartily. We sealed it, addressed it and dropped it in the out-going mail-sack. It was a new Fullick that went about his work the next few days. There was a spring to his step, his shoulders were straighter, his eyes brighter. Not that he gave promise of complete reformation. He still craved and got his daily pint of beer and, no doubt, had the means been to hand would have indulged in one of his old-time ’ fights ‘to a finish with the Demon Rum, without a qualm. But he held his head up among the men | and spoke ceaselessly of his “little matey”’ back in “Blytie,”’ who had sent him all these - wonderful things, and from whom he ex- pected another letter soon. first bit of glorious weather we had : known in two months. The ground froze over night and by the time the sun had climbed above the valley we went about our work lightly, almost joyously. The weather-beaten horses, too, sniffed the sun- shine and stamped the frozen mud with every manifestation of a new interest in life. By noon the highway flanking the camp thronged with visitors from the city, taking advantage of this unwonted combination of fine weather and holiday to get out in the NEW YEAR’S day brought the I4I country and see the great camp of “les An- glais,” at close range. ‘The activities of a troop of Indian cavalry preparing to go to the front attracted the mass of visitors, who packed the road in front of the Indian kraal. Below the crowd the heavy columns of Ally Slopers, riding one horse and leading two, pounded up the road and turned in at the big gate. We had all we could do to handle our horses that morning. Bitterly we cursed the inefficiency of the supply department in not furnishing us bits and bridles. To man- age three obstreperous horses, their heads tied closely together by their halter-ropes, with nothing but a rope passed about the nose of one’s mount, is one of the little things we were presumed to be experts in. Most of us had got our horses safely back to the stable lines from exercise and water, when what we were fearing happened. From down the road came the frightened shouts of men and the pound of heavy hoofs beating the tattoo of full gallop. We could see the column of ‘‘Remounts” rearing and plunging, as along its edge came thundering a trio of runaways. Straight and true, their heads together like trained fire-engine horses, the big animals tore up the highway toward that suddenly shrieking iam of visitors. An awkward, lanky figure, in a flopping stocking-cap strove vainly to stop his mad- dened charges. Ata glance we knew it was old Fullick. We knew, too, the futility of his effort to pull up three runaway light- draft horses with a single _halter-rope. Riding the near or left-hand horse, old Ful- lick tugged with all his puny strength at the loop of rope in his hands, his striving urg- ing the beasts to even greater speed. There remained one chance. Habit might. incline those galloping brutes to turn in at the gate if we could block the road and frighten them with waving arms and frantic shouts. We tried it. They swerved not a jot and instinctively we jumped aside to -let them through. I caught a glimpse of Fullick’s face as he rocketed by. It was ashen with terror. Another moment and those pounding hoofs would be beating down the nearest of those shrieking groups of men, women and children fighting to get up the road. Then we saw Fullick do the only thing to be done. The right-hand edge of the road had been opened into a deep ditch, in which CoOMmichoooks. GO