Adventure Magazine Cover, March 20, 1925 — page 145: what you’re looking at

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

Author of “Tub Tobim Repeats,” “‘Queer Fish,” etc. * HRISTMAS weather, all right,” said the Old Man, pulling back the curtains that we might note the spit-spit-spit-spit of snow- flakes against the windowpane. “Christmas weather,” he reiterated dolefully, ‘‘but who the dickens is going to put the X in X-mas? That’s what’s worrying me.”’ Canning, one of the company command- ers assembled at the Old Man’s bidding, whipped a cigaret from his face to inquire: “X stands for “merry’’, sir?” The Old Man leaned back-in his chair, observing: “Right you are, Canning. And ‘merry’, I regret to say, has been knocked galley west. Tell them, Lewis.” I, being Lewis, told them of the little bombshell that had been dropped into bat- talion headquarters earlier in the day. “There have been,” I explained, ‘certain last-minute alterations to Division’s plan to supply all troops with Christmas fowl. Now, certain units must consider them- selves also rans——” “That’s enough!’ Canning had. flicked his cigaret stub the length of the room and had blatted interruption. ‘“That’s plenty,” he went on. Any one with half an eye can see where we finish.”’ Young Meyers cast an imploring look my way. “Don’t we even showr”’ he asked. “T’m afraid not,” I told them. ‘‘We have Division’s regrets——”’ “And a —— fine dinner regrets will make,” scoffed Blane. “The men will go wild over regrets.” For a few moments silence hung like a wet blanket over the Old Man’s quarters. The Old Man now stood looking out of the window on to the chateau yard where some men were snow-balling. Cheery cries came to our ears. Canning only glowered the more. Meyers plucked nervously at his snip of a mustache. Blane’s fingers beat a tattoo on the table top. “We've got to do something,” Canning finally declared. “Simply got to,” said Meyers. “T’ll say we’ve got to,”’ added Blane. I shot a look at “‘Sleepy’’ Caldwell, seated by the door. Up to the moment he, our fourth company commander, had not been heard from. But even as I looked Sleepy rid himself of a grunt, a snort, a chuckle and a laugh in quick succession. I knew the signs; Sleepy had some corking idea. “You’re not figgering on Sandy Claus, eh?” said Sleepy with a wide grin. ‘‘No? Well, Iam. When I was a little shaver I always worried round Christmas time ’bout empty stockings, but I never once found | them empty. Trust Sandy Claus, I say. He'll look out for us.” The Old Man wheeled from the window. By the look on his face I realized he had his dander up. Sleepy certainly had picked an inopportune moment to express himself as he had done. “Glad to see,’”’ chewed the Old Man, “that you’ve at least come out of coma, 127 COMiIicloOoe