Adventure Magazine Cover — page 174: what you’re looking at

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

168 TWO young—exceedingly young— ladies burst forth from the house as Brannon was shaking hands with Downs’ comely wife. She looked smaller than she really was in comparison to her huge spouse. Doramay, six years old, greeted Brannon rapturously. Alice, aged two, was as chunky as her elder sister was slender, and was undoubtedly the busiest human being that far South. In the space of five minutes she had brought forth all her dolls, got Brannon to swing her, had run across the quiet side street to make calls on two families and slid down the back of the davenport until an accident happened to her dress, which caused Mrs. Downs to temporarily retire her to inner regions. Brannon, too much of a philosopher ever to be actively discontented, was neverthe- less unusually content when spending a weekend with the Downs. gigantic Southerner a year before, as the result of a forced landing near Lockville. An invitation to spend the night as a guest at the house had worked into a warm friend- ship between the two men. Brannon found a few items of clothing which did not have to be wrung dry, donned them and then called up the field. He arranged to have a new wheel and tail- skid shipped down on the afternoon train from San Antonio. There was just time before lunch to start the phonograph and dance with Doramay. This rite was in- variably performed within an hour after his arrival at the Downs’ domicile. Dinner was a bit more quiet than was usual when the two men got together. The invariable badinage which generally passed between the quizzical flyer and the softly drawling, humorously inclined Texan was conspicuous by its absence. His host was quiet and distraught, and Mrs. Downs’ face reflected her anxiety. ‘Want to run up town?” asked Downs after the meal. “I’ve got to see a few men —see whether there’s anything new. Better come along and let ’em look you over. That little fracas this morning’ll be the topic of the day.” Brannon went and found that Matt’s statement was no exaggeration. It was all over town, and had “aroused glee in large gobs,’’ as Jim remarked to Downs. It was easy to see that Grady was as un- popular as smallpox, but that, as the leading spirit of the company which might bring a ves ( WQ)) CESS ™ He had met the. Adventure fortune to every tradesman and almost every resident of Lockville, could do no wrong great enough to warrant retaliation from the townspeople. Nevertheless, that knock on the head was a sweet morsel for the men who had secretly yearned to per- form the operation themselves, and Bran- non was greeted with respectful, contained admiration and gratitude. It was likewise apparent that the slow- talking, quiet men of Lockville were labor- ing under a heavy load of repressed excite- ment. Brannon, who had taken a week’s leave one time to look in on the Mexia boom when it was at its height, could readily understand why Lockville was taut and straifed to the breaking point. Long-drawn-out anticipation was within a few hours, comparatively, of possible reali- zation. And if there was a gusher out there on the Weathers tract, it meant that to own a store was to be in line for a small fortune; that every extra room in a house was worth a hundred and fifty dollars a month or more; that a part of the gold which flowed from the ground would find its way into the pockets of every citizen. He and Downs met the afternoon train and secured the parts for the ship. Brannon decided to wait until the morrow to do the repairing, because of the muddy roads. The hot sun which had beat down con- tinuously since the cloudburst had done wonders with the mud, but it would be an easier trip next morning. That evening he went with Downs to the one hotel in Lockville and for three hours sat back quietly and listened while tanned old- timers—well-scouts, oil-scouts, land men, purchasing agents—swapped yarns about the famous booms of history. The Mexia hoosegow at its height; bitter races over almost impassable roads for acre- age in the Ranger pool; sleeping on the side- walks of Eastland; how Judge Strong spent six million dollars for his company in two hours at Witchita Falls; the youngster in Tampico who had been robbed by hijacker, searched him out, turned hijacker himself for the moment and lit out of Tampico three thousand dollars richer within fifteen min- utes after he had been robbed—these and a thousand other glimpses of the game were vouchsafed him as moonshine flowed freely and the taciturn oil men lapsed into geniality and loquaciousness. It was after twelve when they slipped COMIG HOO <S C©