Adventure Magazine Cover — page 175: what you’re looking at

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

Don’t Swat a Flyer through the quiet street toward home. The moon hung low in the purple canopy that was the sky, and a tiny Gulf breeze stirred the mesquite trees to dry whisper- ing. Brannon, who had been silent and absorbed all evening, asked suddenly: “If you had a piece of that core, Matt, what chemist would you send it too?” “Huh?” grunted the surprized Downs. “Well, that doesn’t matter, anyway,” re- marked Brannon thoughtfully. _ “‘What doesn’t matter? What the are you trying to enunciate, if anything?” “Just trying to remember or think of some spot where I’d like to have you sitting sometime Monday.” Downs swept the car into the little lane behind the house which led to the garage. “Funny, but those drinks didn’t affect me thataway,” he seflected sadly. “Oh, I’m in my right mind,” Brannon said airly. “I refuse to divulge anything going on in my truly remarkable brain, though. I will not give you guilty knowl- edge. If after I sleep on my scheme it still looks like a good way to smash two eggs into one frying-pan, [ll elucidate further. I fear that maybe those wild and blood-thirsty yarns told so matter-of- factly this evening may have somewhat upset my usual tranquil temperament, and urged me to deeds of too stupendous valor. However 2 “That’s a lot of language you’re using up,’ commentd Downs. He pushed the door closed, and they started up the walk toward the house. “Let’s fire a parting salute to the evening in the form of cigaret smoke,” suggested Brannon, and accordingly they veered around the house and took seats on the veranda. The quiet street was shaded by towering trees in full leaf, and widely spaced white houses nestled behind luxuriant shrubbery. There was something appealing in the quiet peace of it all to the wandering flyer, and yet even as he fell under the spell of it he did not make the mistake which so many of his breed do under similar conditions. While at the moment there seemed to be nothing in all the world so satisfactory as settling down in some such placid surround- ings, he knew that it was not forhim. The time would come, and come shortly, when there were too many interesting things in the world to let go by without taking a 169 look. Temporary emotional appeal never swept Brannon off his feet. Downs blew a few reflective smoke- rings and then mentioned Brannon’s pros- pective departure for the first time. '“We’re sorry you’re leaving, Jim,” he drawled. It was characteristic of him that he asked no questions, although he had not the slight- est idea what Brannon was planning to do in the future. “ll be drifting back occasionally,” re- turned Brannon. “I’m going to slip down to Mexico—l’ve only popped in there once before—and possibly take a couple of months further south with a friend of mine.” “You lead a tough life, don’t you?” en- quired Downs oratorically. ‘Slipping here and there at your own sweet-will must be hard to take.” The Texan’s words were a half-invitation to self-revelation, and for a moment Bran- non was impelled to break his invariable custom and talk about himself. The habit of years was too strong, however, even though the idea of confiding in some one_ was strangely appealing at the moment. So his answer, lightly given, was as non- committal as always. “T always enjoy something a bit out of the ordinary, or that I haven’t seen before” he said, and then added “It was a treat to listen to that gang tonight.” “The oil game is a great game, begging its pardon for calling it a game. It’s a great combination of fight, gamble and business.” Downs relapsed into silence, which Ban- non did not break. He stole a glance at the great bulk beside him and surprized on his friend’s face an expression of bitter hopelessness. It was as if his reference to the oil business had brought home to him, with increased force, his present situation. Brannon could appreciate what was running through Downs’ mind, because he knew of the long fight the Texan had had to estab- lish himself. After a few years as a salaried man, with no prospects for advancement, he had turned into a business soldier of fortune. Cotton-seed broker, speculator in cattle, driller in the oilfields—that episode alone was anepic. Starting with one rig bought with mostly borrowed money, Downs and his partner had grown te a firm with five COmiclboolks ©