Adventure, November 1915 — page 96: what you’re looking at

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

* ~w “ ‘ed “* »* ie "ja a 7S ov ws oe ie kn ia Og ae = O4 “Scarecrow!” he kept repeating to him- self. ‘Scarecrow, he called him! Yon laddie luiks like ane that can scare mair nor corbies.” But the name, introduced thus forcibly into the camp, stuck; and as “Scarecrow” the stranger was known, for the rest of his stay. 7 A COUPLE of weeks after the sur- prising young man had furnished this spirited revival of the David asd Goliath episode, Chief Inspector Gor- man was summoned to the sumptuous office of Mr. Stuart-Wilson, Managing Director of the Ruby Mines Syndicate. This poten- tate was characterized by a sanctimonious expression and an oppressive manner. He was firmly convinced that he knew every- thing that had ever happened since the Creation; but on this occasion his habitual self-satisfied air was replaced by a heavy frown. “Er—Mr. Gorman,” he began. “TI have sent for you to—ah—say that there is reason to believe that illicit mining is on the—ah—increase, to an extent that re- flects distinct discredit on your staff.’ Gorman shuffled uneasily. He prided himself on an overrated estimate of his de- tective ability, and here was his superior positively radiating scornful disapproval. “Of course, you know sir,” he began to explain, ‘ ‘that there is always a good deal of that going on in the jungle diggings; we get a man every now and then, but——” “My dear Gorman, I have been head of this company for some time now—for quite some little time, and I require no instruction as to general conditions. Er—what I want to bring to your notice is—ah—that our agents in Mandalay report recent sales so far in excess of our own and our controlled output to that market as to indicate an or- ganized system of secret mining.” “Well, sir,’’ essayed the luckless Chief again, but the autocrat held up his hand. “T had not finished, Gorman.” After an impressive pause to let the reproof sink in, he continued: “I am convinced that a clever —ah—gang—yes, ‘gang’ is the only word— is operating; and it is my personal opinion that it is under the leadership of a white man, for we know that the native cannot organize. Ah—that is all, Gorman. I have informed you of the facts, and I now look to you to do your duty.” Adventure “Yes, sir,’”’ was all Gorman could say; and he-turned to leave the room, fuming. ““And—er—I might add that the com- pany has decided to offer a reward of five thousand rupees for the breaking up of the organization.” “Yes, sir.’’ Gorman raged within. His supercilious chief had treated him like a child and an in- competent fool, and his conceit had received a rude shock. He called a meeting of all his assistants in their bungalow common room and worked off his spleen on them in a vio- | lent denunciation of themselves, and their methods, and his superior’s attitude, and everything in the camp, concluding with a final order to “Get busy and show results.’’. Then he stormed out of the room, followed only by the man Allen, who toadied to his vanity and was therefore his constant com- panion. The rueful silence which followed was broken by a freckle-faced Irishman. “Chief Gorman seems to be annoyed,” he grinned. “I’d like to have heard what the boss said to him.” “So’d I,” agreed another. Then, acidly: “Gorman thinks he’s darn clever, but he don’t do such a lot himself; and he don’t help us any neither. When I copped Maung Gaung right on the spot he said we had no case against him ’n’ let him go.” “Yes, but you know that: you can’t get conviction unless you catch the man actually working,” objected the first speaker. “Well, an’ didn’t I?” came the indignant reply. “I copped him right in a pit, nosin’ around, an’ Gorman said because he hadn’t no pick an’ shovel we couldn’t prove he . wasn’t there just out o’ curiosity; an’ him ‘with a bag of stones as big as your fist.” “That’s right,’’ chimed in another voice. “That Burman’s the slickest I. M. in the camp, but he’ll trip some day and we'll get him all right.” “Tell you fellows what,” broke in a foxy- faced individual with a superior air which he affected on the strength of having been to Cambridge University. “TI have a notion that the white man at the head of this gang is none other than the Scarecrow.” “Oh, rats! That’s just another of your deductive theories, Shout. The Scarecrow’ ; all right; but trot out your theory, anyhow.” “Well, you know,” defended Shout, thus challenged, “he has no apparent means of livelihood. He just potters ’round collecting Gomichoo S (CO)