Adventure Magazine Cover, October 30, 1924 — page 146: what you’re looking at

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

BUGLER. In the © Looe BARRY SCOBEE } f: ’ ’ 7 4 iy, ] \ 4 5 By, “gh, 7 4 Y Aa gee at é a o * Hi Ly 4 > B : U's * i NJ 4) y, » Aa 4 Author of ‘Red Pig’ of the North,” “Bandit’s Glory,” etc. LD Chief Trumpeter Cart of the Artillery and his ancient friend, Chief Musician Gray of the In- fantry, met quite by chanceat dusk just outside the gate of the big garrison. “Ho!” sang out Cart. ‘I was just wishin’ to meself that I could set eyes on ye. Come along an’ we’ll have a wee bit of a nip, as O’Grady would say.” ‘““No.” Gray shook his head. the pole this week.” “What!” bawled the artilleryman. “Are ye tryin’ to wreck old friendship? ‘Trying to shun my society? Have ye forgot our promise?” “No, I haven’t forgot it!’ protested Gray in sudden heat. “Sure not. Whichever one of us cashes in first & ‘the other blows Taps——-”’ “‘_over his grave.” They clasped hands gravely. “Ah, ye ain’t forgot,” conceded Cart, “and for that I'll do me best by ye. You'll be an inspirashun to me and me bugle, a layin’ there so quiet and noble. And now will ye come with me and get togged up?” “One, Cart. Dll take one with you for old days’ sake, but I won’t get togged up.” “Well, stay dry then, ye old chip, but I’m going to get soused to the scuppers. I’m going to get old Malley tonight.” Old Malley was the colonel of the infan- try regiment. The year that he had come from West Point, a stiff-backed shave-tail, Cart had been a raw recruit, and somehow, Gray nor any one else knew how, the young officer had given mortal offense to the young soldier. Possibly even Cart did not remem- ber what it was, for he never mentioned the matter except on his sprees, at which times he had been threatening for years to thrash the old officer. ‘Goin’ to get revenge,” he repeated. “Don’t be a fool,” admonished Gray. “Lay hands on him and your honorable record won’t be honorable no_ longer. They'll bob-tail you, and won’t ‘dishonor- able discharge’ look fine for an old soldier like you!” ‘Are you coming for a drink, Gray, or are you standing there till tattoo a preaching?” “Tl take one, Cart. One, mind you, but I won’t get togged.” Arm in arm the old cronies went to the nearest drinking place, and there with ele- vated glasses they drank toasts to each other courteously. “To the best bugler in the world,” said Cart. “To the best bugler in the world,” said Gray likewise. There were no prouder fighting men in any man’s army than Cart and Gray— proud of the uniform, of their good conduct records, proud of the Army and its tradi- tions, proud of their long friendship, and proud of their capacity to stand up under adverse conditions. But this last ability was sadly diminished, and three hours later both men were careful to hold on to the bar 136 DOOLK CO in