Adventure Magazine Cover — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

20 moving, it is necessary to have a firm grip of the mane, and British cavalry mounts have roached manes, leaving little to grasp. The Yank had seized his sword when he ran out to the street and this encumbered him considerably. A hasty glance at the saddle of his new mount showed him that the horse had been down, and having rolled on his side, had made the sword that was suspended from the saddle look like a fish-hook. Hercules himself couldn’t get that sword out of its scabbard. Well, he must mount the horse somehow. The horse meanwhile increased his pace, not relishing the Yank’s dragging on the rein. The Yank, then, holding his sword in his right hand, and let- ting it hang down on the off side, grabbed for the crown-piece of the bridle, seized it, made a tentative hop, and then gave a tre- mendous bound. He landed across the saddle on his stom- ach and very nearly went over the other side. The horse began to canter and the Yank clawed wildly for the stirrup. He could not drop his sword, for then he would be weaponless, and one-handed as he was, it was all he could do to keep from falling. The horse meanwhile tossed his head and the Yank was forced to shift his grip to the neck. He was encouraged from the ranks. “Chew ’is ear!’ ‘Push on the rein, trooper!” ‘Speak to ’im gentle an’ ’e won’t *urt you!” Some joker howled above the rest, “‘Stole away, stole away, tally-ho-o-o!” and then gave a huntsman’s yodel. The troopers laughed wildly. THE Yank was well toward the | | head of the column now. In vain ~1 did certain sergeants tell him to “old that ’orse.”” He went by an officer with the speed of light, whose cries were lost behind him. His horse was running away. Head down, tail up, he scurried along, and at that moment the Yank got astride the saddle and gathered the reins. “Oh my back!” he exclaimed, ‘‘the stir- rups are too long!”’ Too long by half a foot. They flew about and hammered his shins and the horse’s ribs alternately. The horse responded by another burst of speed. The Yank hid his best with the reins, but the horse had his head on his chest and paid no heed.” Most Adventure of the Yank’s strength was expended in holding on. oe He reached out for the off rein and gath- ered it close, with the idea of circling his beast, that is, making the horse run round and round in circles and thus stopping him, but he only succeeded in turning the horse off the road and into:a field. Then the Yank began to haul on the rein in real earnest, for he had left the road to the right and was going toward the enemy at good speed. ““Whoa!”’ cried the Yank. “You hammer-head, whoa! Oh my back!” Before him appeared a shape in the fog, and while his heart was still in his mouth, his horse careered into a group of wagons. Dark they were, green or gray, and the nearest one had the word Futterwag in white letters by the driver’s seat. The horse swerved sharply to avoid colliding with the Futterwag and dashed around the back of it. The Yank lay down on the horse’s neck and stretching an arm on either side, did nothing but hold on and stick his sword out straight in front of him. “Tf I fall off now,” he thought, “I’m as dead as Free Silver. I'll yell and maybe they’ll think I’m a whole troop! Yea-a-a-a-y/”’ A startled face in a round cap looked out of one of the wagons and seeing the British uniform, ducked in again rapidly. The Yank arrived in an open space, where sev- eral men in spiked helmets stood about. They fled in all directions at the sight of the charging Yank and the horses they had been holding snorted and tore away into the mist. “Come around, you ——,” panted the Yank, pulling on the other rein. He got his horse’s head turned around and they went off in a new direction, jumped a pile of boxes and collided with tremendous force against a knot of horse- men. These cursed horribly and shouted to each other. The Yank was away before they could get out their swords, but they came after him, spurring and lashing. Trees flew by, gray men on foot took to their heels, one shot at the Yank with a pistol. The Yank turned loose the reins. ‘“‘Now, bolter,”’ said he in the horse’s ear, “‘let’s see you run now and run back to your own gang. Don’t take me into Germany again!” The horse swerved at right angles to his former course and flung his hind quarters cConmiclbool< 1 @)