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Drifter's Luck
THAT'S a lot of tripe. How long have you been around here, anyway? Uh-huh. About two weeks. So now you know all about Venezuela and its people. And you'll be going back North on the next boat to write a book about it the great llanos, and the rough old Rio Orinoco, and the unexplored mountains and wild Indian tribes and so on. One more of those things.
No? Well, that's something. More than one book has been written that way, I hear. Fact is, I just lately read one myself, by an Englishman named Wigglewell. And they say he did all his intrepid exploring right here in this barroom. Anyway, the book's a horse laugh to anybody that knows this country. Come to think of it, what you just said sounded like him. And you're grinning. Trying to get a rise out of me, maybe?
All right, you got it, and I'll buy. Clap your hands, and the waiter will come along. Sorry I can't. This left hand of mine is hors de combat, as us frogs say. Broke two fingers the other night. Doing what?
Well, not knitting. They say he will be out of the hospital next week Well, now, Mr.--er--I didn't quite catch it. Mack? Glad to know you. Hart's mine. Hart. Don't get me mixed up with the lad I'm going to tell you about. His name's Dugan. Sure, another frog, from the same green island the Harts and Macks came from, away back.
Now you said--or Wigglewell did--this country is unfit for white men, except here in Caracas and a few other big towns. A country of savages and half-breed cutthroats, held down only by the thin top crust of pure white Spaniards. Pure? Cripes! Show me one!
That's what Dugan would say, anyway. And I'll tell you why...
No? Well, that's something. More than one book has been written that way, I hear. Fact is, I just lately read one myself, by an Englishman named Wigglewell. And they say he did all his intrepid exploring right here in this barroom. Anyway, the book's a horse laugh to anybody that knows this country. Come to think of it, what you just said sounded like him. And you're grinning. Trying to get a rise out of me, maybe?
All right, you got it, and I'll buy. Clap your hands, and the waiter will come along. Sorry I can't. This left hand of mine is hors de combat, as us frogs say. Broke two fingers the other night. Doing what?
Well, not knitting. They say he will be out of the hospital next week Well, now, Mr.--er--I didn't quite catch it. Mack? Glad to know you. Hart's mine. Hart. Don't get me mixed up with the lad I'm going to tell you about. His name's Dugan. Sure, another frog, from the same green island the Harts and Macks came from, away back.
Now you said--or Wigglewell did--this country is unfit for white men, except here in Caracas and a few other big towns. A country of savages and half-breed cutthroats, held down only by the thin top crust of pure white Spaniards. Pure? Cripes! Show me one!
That's what Dugan would say, anyway. And I'll tell you why...
Nook
First published August 10, 1938
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About the author
Arthur O. Friel
47 books4 followersDuring much of career Arthur Olney Friel was one of the bestselling writers of pulp fiction in the United States.
Born in Detroit, Michigan,Friel, a 1909 Yale University graduate, had been the South American editor for the Associated Press which provided him with real-world experience. In 1922, he took a six-month trip down Venezuela's Orinoco River and its tributary, the Ventuari River. His travel account was published in 1924 as The River of Seven Stars.
After returning from the Venezuela trip, many of Friel's stories were set in that part of the world. He remained a popular writer of adventure stories throughout the 1920s and 1930s. In the 1930s, his short stories began appearing regularly in the various pulp magazines. His stories were almost always set in Venezuela.
The 1920s were his most productive time as a fiction writer, with an average of 5 appearances per year in Adventure during that time. The thirties were less productive, but he still managed to have one or two stories every year published in Adventure, except 1937, when he had none.
He seems to have stopped writing fiction by the time WW2 came around. The decline of the pulps may have been a contributing factor.
Arthur O. Friel died in Concord, New Hampshire in 1959 at the age of 73.
Born in Detroit, Michigan,Friel, a 1909 Yale University graduate, had been the South American editor for the Associated Press which provided him with real-world experience. In 1922, he took a six-month trip down Venezuela's Orinoco River and its tributary, the Ventuari River. His travel account was published in 1924 as The River of Seven Stars.
After returning from the Venezuela trip, many of Friel's stories were set in that part of the world. He remained a popular writer of adventure stories throughout the 1920s and 1930s. In the 1930s, his short stories began appearing regularly in the various pulp magazines. His stories were almost always set in Venezuela.
The 1920s were his most productive time as a fiction writer, with an average of 5 appearances per year in Adventure during that time. The thirties were less productive, but he still managed to have one or two stories every year published in Adventure, except 1937, when he had none.
He seems to have stopped writing fiction by the time WW2 came around. The decline of the pulps may have been a contributing factor.
Arthur O. Friel died in Concord, New Hampshire in 1959 at the age of 73.
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