Talk:The Spark of Skeeter Bill
Add topic| Information about this edition | |
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| Edition: | Extracted from Adventure magazine, 1922 March 30, pp. 3–33. |
| Source: | https://archive.org/details/adventure-v-033-n-06-1922-03-30 |
| Contributor(s): | ragpicker |
| Notes: | Accompanying illustrations may be omitted |
| Proofreaders: | ragcleaner |
Something from W. C. Tuttle as to his story.
From “The Camp-Fire” section of the issue, p. 179.
SOMETHING from W. C. Tuttle as to his complete novelette in this issue. As you know, he was born and raised among the people he writes about and knows them.
Hollywood, Calif.
Skeeter Bill is real. His name is not Sarg, but he is known as Skeeter Bill. He is just as I have painted him, physically. Skeeter and his folks were very active in the sheep and cattle war in Wyoming, but Skeeter is tamed now. He played a bartender in one of my pictures, and wailed because the bottles were not filled with real liquor. He points with pride to the fact that lack of physique saved his life.
Seems that two men were shooting at Skeeter, who hid behind a post, which was eight inches in diameter. Their bullets scored both sides of the post, but Skeeter was untouched. Skeeter was telling about his brother and explained, “He ain't so heavy set as I am.” A friend of mine met Skeeter, drifting along in the desert. He asked Skeeter where he had been. Skeeter looked back, shook his head sadly and said: “I had a of a lot of fun, but nobody'll believe me. I've been herdin' ostriches.” He had been employed by the owner of an ostrich farm.
The character of Judge Tareyton was drawn from life—booze, appearance and all. Drunk or sober, he was the perfect gentleman. He had ideals, but drowned them in hooch. I have wanted to put him in a story for a long time, but did not until I met Skeeter Bill, whose character appealed to me. A cowboy said to me, “Skeeter Bill ain't no actor, but he's jist as reliable as a .”
The incident of the lawyer refusing to drink with the man he had saved was taken from an incident which happened in Montana years ago. Colonel Sanders was the lawyer. Of course the incident of Skeeter turning the tables on the lawyer by declaring himself guilty was my own invention. The rest of the story is fiction, with a touch here and there of real occurrences. I hope you will thank me for not letting Skeeter Bill win the girl. Yours,
Tut.
P. S—Here is another one by Skeeter Bill:
He was poking along in the hills on a steep hillside, where the trail was very narrow, when he saw an Indian coming down the trail. Skeeter knew the Indian very well. The red was riding a young and rather skittish horse. Skeeter stopped and the Indian rode up, taking the lower side.
Skeeter threw his leg around his saddle-horn, reached out to shake hands with the Indian. Skeeter's sudden movement frightened the Indian's horse, which whirled and bucked down the hill. The Indian was thrown into a mesquite clump. Skeeter watched him disentangle himself, and then yelled:
“What went wrong, Pete?”
The Indian rubbed his scratched face, looked down the hill and then up at Skeeter. “Too much how-de-doo!” he snapped.—Tut.}}
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