Adventure, November 1915 — page 210: what you’re looking at

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

- 208 others, Dynamite had this field to himself. Now, this little Suzanne was about as pretty a girl as one could want to meet or even own. Dick thought so, and, it is feared, said so. She was still very young, had the regulation peaches-and-cream com- plexion of her type and years, wavy brown hair and hazel eyes. Her gingham dress looked fit for a queen. Of course, Dynamite managed to say that he was from the U. S. A., and that he was in this war as a matter of principle. No doubt in the end it would be the American _ Revolution all over again, especially if one William Jennings Bryan should be elected to the presidency of the United States. Dick announced that the gentleman in question had promised the Boers help of some sort. But all things come to an end; so did the beans and the biltong. With the ration duly stowed away, and the horses rested up and fed, there was no reason for dallying. ‘So the Veldcornet’s whistle sounded the “Upklim burghers,” “Christine,” called somebody in the house, ‘‘we are going to eat.” Dynamite started making his adieu by rising to his feet. The girl rose from the rawhide settee, searched with her hands for the wall of the house, and then cautiously advanced to- ward the door. Dynamite seemed a little perplexed. “T have enjoyed your talk so very much, mynheer,” said the girl fumbling for the latch of the door. As she stepped over the threshold, a hand from the inside grasped hers. Dynamite saw the girl led off. With a puzzled look on his face he mounted his horse and rounded up his pack-mules. “No doubt you thought you were cutting quite a swath with the girl,” said the writer to Dynamite a little later. “She acted peculiar when she left,’”’ ad- mittéd the man with the poet pompadour, still greatly perplexed. “You see, Dick, she is blind,” explained the other. “One of those optical-nerve troubles that doesn’t show on the outside of the eye.” “Well,” rejoined Dick in his slow Penn- -sylvania mountain drawl, ‘‘I wouldn’t mind that. Maybe I'll see her again after the war is over.” But he never did. Adventure OSEPH DOLIBOIS wanted to be a warrior bold. He would follow the example of his glorious compatriot, Colonel Villebois-Mareuil—if possible he would emulate it. Dolibois, strictly speaking, was not a military man. In France he had been shunted into the territorial reserve when his time for service in the army came. So for a year or two more he followed his peaceful occupation of joiner, making bedsteads, tables, chairs, and other furniture. When the Boer war broke out he bought a ticket for Lorenzo Marquez with his savings, bade his relatives good-by, and set out with the determination to give succor to the two republics on the veld. Dolibois was a re- publican. Whenever anybody mentioned royalism, imperialism, the Bourbons, or any other divine-right sort of governmental institution, he would snort with detesta- tion: sa 6 a Vg enl”? Joseph came to Pretoria with one train and left by the next for the front. The Eng- lish had been ‘“‘écrasés” at Colenso. He would be there when the next disaster was visited upon them. With a brand-new Mauser and bandolier, likewise two hundred and fifty rounds of ammunition, Joseph set out from the capital. On the way to the Natal front, he rehearsed to himself some of the famous sayings of one Napoleon Bonaparte. Ah, if only the great emperor were alive! What he wouldn’t do to the British would not be worth recording. “Mais, helast L’empereur n’est plus.” — would be a Little Corporal him- self “Do you know how to shoot?” asked Veldcornet Pienaar, of the Jeppesdorp Com- mando. Joseph shrugged his shoulders. He did not understand. “Like this,” explained Pienaar, going through the motions of firing a rifle. “Oui, bien surel’’ was the assuring reply of Dolibois. ‘‘Know how to ride?” continued Pienaar. “Je ne comprends pas, m ’steu,”’ said the puzzled recruit. “You know, like this. Sit on a horse,” said the Veldcornet, straddling legs and bobbing up and down several times. Even poor Dolibois had to laugh. “Out, m’sieu.’ EComichbooks ()