Adventure Magazine Cover, October 30, 1924 — page 147: what you’re looking at

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

Best Bugler with at least one hand all the time to steady themselves. ‘“‘Here’s to the bes’—buglerintheworl’,” toasted old Gray, elevating his glass. ‘“Who’s bes’ bugler?”’ demanded Cart sus- piciously. ‘‘You ’r’ me?” “Wouldn’t like to say, chief. But you answer me thish: How’d a bob-tail soldier salute a cashiered officer on a condemned mule in an abandoned army post?” “That ol’ ches’nut? When you drag that ou’, you’re drunk.” ‘Ans’ me!” Chief Trumpeter Cart, who sat his horse with such dignity at regimental parade, raised thumb to nose and solemnly wiggled his fingers. “Yes,” agreed Gray, ‘“‘thass the way he’d salute.”’ ‘‘Now you answer me this,’”’ demanded Cart, “and no ’vasion. Who’s best bugler in the world?” “Well,” began Chief Gray argumenta- tively, “I belong to the best Army in the world, don’t I?” “Sure. SodoI. Same Army.” “An’ I belong to the best division in the best Army, don’t I?” “Sure. SodoI. Same division.” “‘And I belong to the best brigade in the best division, don’t I?” “Sure. SodoI. Same brigade.” *“‘And I belong to the best regiment in the best brigade, don’t I?” ““‘No—siree—you—don’t! Different regi- ments. I belong to the best regiment. Ar- tillery regiment. You’re just infantry.” Gray ignored the scorn in this. summed up: He “IT belong to the best regiment in the best . brigade in the best division in the best Army in the world. And ain’t I the chief trumpeter in my regiment? Hey? Answer that, Chief Cart, and be done with argument.”’ Old Cart turned on his inquisitor with red-faced wrath, breathing through his nose in snorts like a horse. “Yes,” he derided hoarsely, “‘you’re the best bugler in the world!” “Thanks,” murmured Gray, pleased as Punch. ‘Merit will out. What’ll ye have to drink, Chief?” He rapped on the bar for service. ‘You can order anything your taster fancies.” But now Cart exploded. He raised his great arms mightily as if to beat Gray down into the sawdust of the floor, and he bellowed in the World 137 so that he could be heard a block away. “Yes! Yes! You’re the best bugler in the world—after I’m gone!” They glared at each other ferociously. Other soldiers about the place tittered. Then the bartender interfered in his thin cold voice: “Here, you old roosters, you been chaw- ing that rag for seven years to my personal knowledge. Can’t neither one of you bugle for sour apples. When you going to give us a little rest, hey?” The two old regimentalists did not un- bend to answer this fresh young upstart, but hooking elbows they swayed out to- gether—a couplet on friendship. Outside they struck off toward the garrison gate. “Fine night for drunks,” observed Gray, the cool air clearing his thought. ‘‘No mud and plenty o’ moonlight.” “I’m goin’ to get old Malley,” proclaimed Cart. “I am, I am!’ Gray was startled, for there was suddenly the resonance of a wild purpose in the ar- tilleryman’s voice. And Gray remembered now that all evening Cart’s laughter had been like a premonition of evil. “Goin’ to get old Malley—I am, I am, IT am!” ‘“‘Here—here,” cautioned Gray savagely. “None o’ that stuff in high-G or the guard’ll get us in short order.” “Goin’ to get old Malley, I tell ye. I am, f am be Gray shook his comrade violently, and Cart, surprized and sobered slightly, went along quietly, though sullenly. But within the gate, where their ways parted, Cart be- came maudlin. “Say, y ain’t mad at me, Chief? Y’ain’t mad at old Cart? Y’ain’t forgettin’ our promise?”’ “Sure not, Chief. promise.” “First goes—” suggested Cart. ““—t’other blows,” finished Gray. They shook hands on it for the thou- sandth time and parted, Cart muttering about old Malley. Valiant soldiers, old men before their time from liquor, idleness and war. Couldn’t forget our e234 WITH the habit of over twenty-five gige; years of Army service upon him, Chief Musician Gray awoke the next morning at the initial note of first-call, and in a pair of minutes was dressed, even Wu (F micloool C© inn