Adventure Magazine Cover, April 1916 — page 206: what you’re looking at

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

204 obtrusive black stitching on their backs. Under the hoop-skirt coat projected tightly creased and narrow trousers-legs, which ended some eight inches above the ground and an inch above the tops of two very bright tan shoes, with extra sharp toes and red laces. And this resplendent planet car- ried a Malacca cane to complete his em- bellishment. When Carola Messenger perceived him she was overcome. It was impossible for her to take*her eyes off him, and, in passing before her counter, this gaze reached his consciousness. The great Marty McGuire, Murdering Marty, fiercest of the long line of light-weight champions, was compelled to turn and note her presence. His face swung about and he favored her with a stare which started to be impudent and killing, and rapidly passed through various expressions, to astonishment, un- certainty, admiration and contrition. To Carola’s huge surprise his tough little features became frankly shy and abashed, and it was he, rather than herself, who blushed at the exchange. “Why,” the astounding conclusion took form in her mind, “‘he’s nothing but a vul- gah little boy!” Vulgar he was, and his looks justified the conclusion as to his youth. And, in addi- tion, he was not at all handsome. Not of the skilful type of boxer, McGuire had fail- ed to preserve his original lineaments intact as had Young Kelly. He was known as a mauler, and the proof that in his time he had taken as well as given sturdy blows, was written indelibly on two puffy ears and an eyebrow knocked askew. But, though he had the “fighting face,” it seemed to Carola that Young Kelly was a much more impos- ing creature, and she was struck with the conviction that it was a shame to let this little boy fight one so much older and bigger. Therefore, she inclined to forget the vitri- olic terms of Marty’s letter to the paper, and to shift her sympathies to him. Ring rec- ords and comparative performances meant nothing to her. She pitied and therefore favored the little fellow. However, Marty McGuire, knowing noth- ing of this, went his way in the wake of his important manager and disappeared into the elevator, followed by a retinue of bellboys. Nothing further transpired until evening, at least within the notice of the people who Adventure hung about the lobby. At seven, the cham- pion came down and ate his dinner in the café. He spent some time strolling about the place and giving his admirers a view of him until bedtime and then retired. Carola had gone home before he came down, how- ever. SHE resumed her duties in the morning and was busy waiting on her customers, when Young Kelly, who had recently left the hotel and taken up permanent quarters at his gymnasium, en- tered, and with a lordly air sent his card up to Mr. Crabbe. While he awaited that worthy’s convenience, he put in the time at Carola’s counter, leaning over it and monopolizing her attention as far as she would permit. This he accomplished by taking up as much room in front of it as he could cover, and whenever a customer asked for a cigar he would move with exaggerated reluctance, at the same time withering the intruder with a ferocious and cold-blooded stare. This rather annoyed Carola, but she en- deavored to hide the fact. She was relieved when Mr. Crabbe finally appeared, and Kelly, with a very elegant bow, moved away to join him. The two went up to the balcony, which overhung the lobby, and engaged in a con- versation. The whisper quickly ran around the place that Kelly, his own manager, had met Crabbe for the purpose of discussing the final details of the contract to be signed between them. At about this time Marty McGuire, fresh and smiling, and dressed even more startlingly than he had been before, entered the lobby and surveyed it. His eye was at- tracted to the cigar counter and he strolled over that way. He did not smoke, and he looked as if he might find difficulty in reading anything but large and plain print, but he showed no hesi- tation in approaching Carola. His smile was even more broad and ingratiating than formerly, as he placed a negligent elbow on the glass case and shoved his hat from his bulging, knotty brow. A pair of large and aggressive gold teeth flashed an answer to her own cheerful— “What can I do foh you, suh?” “Not’in but a pape, m’am, not’in but a pape!” he replied with a deprecating wave of the hand. Comichoooks (CO