Adventure Magazine Cover — page 159: what you’re looking at

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

~—_ +o —— Pre emhse no tne, athe Be ——- im *\ eS, 2. SPIE SS heise ek ee ai When East Met West and Dirty goes down to the livery stable to see what Wick bought. “Hassayampa”’ Harris is runnin’ the stable. “Howdy, Hassayampa,” says I. “How are your” “Liver trouble,” says he, diagnosin’ him- self. “Spots before m’ eyes, dizziness and kinda sluggish-like.”’ He does look kinda pale and walks ante- godlin’. “How comes you to git them there symp- toms?” asks Dirty. “Tgnorance,” says Hassayampa. “TI tried to take a bale of hay away from Exhibit A of the Chamber of Commerce.” “Meanin’ Gunga Din?” “That accordion-skinned thing,” says Hassayampa painful-like, kinda pluckin’ at his Adam’s apple. “I ain’t jist right in m’ mind yet. it grabbed me by the slack of the pants and took m’ pants plumb off while I’m still in the arr. Them kinda shocks ain’t noways good for the human form. Then the —— thing slapped me across the face with my own pants and knocked me plumb across the stable and into the oat-bin. I ain’t been right since.” “You ort to read up on things like that,” says Dirty. “Read? What in —— can a man read at a time like that?” “Wasn’t there no directions with ’em?” I asks. “No. Direction don’t mean nothin’ to a thing like that, Ike. Do you want to gaze upon ’em?”’ “Yeah, we’ll look,” nods Dirty. “Cost two-bits per each,” informs Has- sayampa. ‘Magpie says they’re worth it— and they are. My , there ain’t no ques- tions about it.” “That’s.a —— of a idea!” snorts Dirty. “Two-bits to see a elephant. I'll tell you what we will do, Hassayampa; we'll pay the two-bits to see you try to take another bale away from Gunga Din.” “You never will,’ sighs Hassayampa. “T’m cured. Anyway, I’m about half out of hay. I’ve got a bill of seven dollars agin’ them critters right now. By golly, that tag- ger ch go plumb to ——. Meat costs money.” We left Hassayampa talkin’ to himself and went back up town, where we leans on Buck’s bar. We ain’t been there long when “Mike Pelly, Ricky Henderson and “Old Testa- 157 ment” Tilton rides in from Paradise. Mike is the saloon-keeper and Ricky runs the barber shop. The third member of this here trio represents the other element of -Para- dise. Testament looks a heap like some old buzzard that had been disappointed in love. - He wears one of them beetle-backed coats, a pair of pants that sure follers the contour of his skinny legs and a pair of boots that sag a heap at the top and shows that Testa- ment don’t noways pinch his feet. Mike parts his hair on one side, slicks one side down until she almost reaches the bridge of his nose, where it retreats some sudden- like. He smells a heap of heel-yuh-tripe perfume. Ricky is a barber. He looks, smells and acts like one. When he gets excited he ap- plauds, like he was stroppin’ a razor. Testa- ment used to think that he had snatched Ricky and Mike from the burnin’. When Testament first comes to that country he has an idea that there was a lot of brands to snatch from the burnin’; but he got scorched a few times and let things go as they lay. Them three angles up to the bar, shakes hands with us, just like they cared to meet us, and asks us to drink. Testament has his usual lemonade and a wink, and then we discusses conditions. “How is everythin’ in this village of iniquity?” asks ‘Testament kinda ofi- handed. “Tniquity, ———!” snorts Buck. “There ain’t no iniquity in Piperock. We're clean- minded and antiseptic of condition. Hf there’s any infection in this city it’s brought here from Paradise. By golly, some day you'll be glad to be knowed as bein’ a suburb of Piperock City.” “Haw - haw - haw - haw!” says Ricky. ‘Suburb of Piperock. Paradise will be a mee-trop-polis when Piperock goes back to the prairie-dogs.” It’s difference of opinion that makes horse races, wars and so many kinds of whisky— all out of one barrel, Me and Dirty Shirt are plumb full of civic pride, and weve willin’ to fight for our fair city—if we had one—but Piperock and Paradise ain’t worth no supreme effort; so we slides out kinda graceful-like and pilgrims back to our shack. Magpie is just goin’ away, ’ com- plete dignity and a lot of stationenes I tells him about the three men from Paradise. “The word has reached,” says Magpie, Eomicbooks.co