Adventure Magazine, March 1916 — page 214: what you’re looking at

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

212 tribes, and only a large expedition could cope with him successfully. The Brigadier would command it, and, since he was totally _ ignorant of the Las Balas district, he would call for guidance upon the only officer in the Islands who knew the trails—Lieuten- ant Gordon MacDonald. “All for his personal aggrandizement when it is over, too,” groaned the youth. “TI only wish my discharge papers would come back before he undertakes this expedition.” This was denied him, for the strands of red tape unroll slowly. So he went on with his daily work which, since he had been or- dered to make no more moves into the Las Balas country until the expedition moved, now consisted of monotonous drills. As a precautionary measure, however, he maintained a daily scouting party of three men in the Las Balas district. These spies were to inform him of the condition of the trails and of any possible change in the posi- tion which Dato Pedro was known to have fortified some distance south of a chasm known as the Great Pothole. Finally the expedition started; and one morning about four months after his prom- ise to Bunga, he led his company out to- ward the Las Balas district. They were to meet the Brigadier, with four regiments of infantry, a mountain battery, and Bunga’s company of constabulary, at the interjunc- tion with the Keithley trail. A half mile from this interjunction his three spies, who had not reported that morning, suddenly burst out of the cogon grass upon him. They were greatly excited. “What’s the matter?” asked Gordon. “Has Dato Pedro changed his position?” No, no, they explained, of this they had had no inkling, though some fifty warriors, who apparently were doing some scouting for Dato Pedro, had forced them to flee northward along the edge of the Great Pot- hole just that morning. This had not caused their excitement. - A great landslide, not uncommon in coral formations, had occurred at the southern end of the Pothole during the night. It had choked the chasm to the brim; and, since the main trail passed through it, the expedition would be forced to march miles out of their way to reach the casa. “Unless they can climb it,” said Gordon. “How about that?” “No, no, tenientel’’ cried his sergeant. “That’s what make so fonny. It ees like Adventure thees—” holding his hand perpendicu- larly— “‘t’ree hundre’ feet, straight down. Lots big smooth rock, thirty feet. No can get hold—mucho mallo. No can climb.” “H’m!” mused Gordon. ‘Well, I guess that settles it.” Forwith, he took out his service maps, and with his eraser removed the lines run- ning southward from the end of the Pothole to the dato’s casa. ‘Then he moved on to the interjunction and the Brigadier. He writhed inwardly at sight of the beefy jowls and the close-pressed lips. It is said that the General reddened also, and that his cold gray eyes became a little harder. This only added to the hate of the boy, with its accompanying distaste for personal con- tact; and he determined to make his report as brief, military and concise as possible. Therefore, after reporting his company, he simply extended his service maps, They, he thought, could do the talking for him “The maps of the Las Balas district, sir,” he said in explanation. “Yours, eh?’ grunted the Brigadier. “Well, they may do to compare with the Spanish maps that Don Pablo has pro- duced.”” And the General beckoned to a smirking, dark-skinned Tagalog in his rear. When this man had produced the old Spanish maps, the General began glancing from them to Gordon’s. Suddenly he looked up. “There appear to be several discrepancies here, Mr. MacDonald. What are: the meanings of all these superfluous trails?” ‘“‘They are there as I found them, sir.” ‘“‘They’re not on the Spanish maps. They had a post up there for some time, too.” “You'll find them all there, sir.”’ “But, —— it, they don’t converge, as I have been told they did. Here, Don Pablo, what do you make of this?” The Filipino took the maps with an air of superior wisdom that galled the youth. “Ha!” he exclaimed. “One, two, three too many, for practeecal use. If there be so many, what for? ‘Take the one, take the other, all go to Dato Pedro’s casa ’cept one ’cross the Argus to Lake Lanao. Of course thees—” pointing to the main trail through the Pothole—‘“‘ees the shortest and the only practeecal one the Spanish use. So what’s use mark rest?” “Hear that, Mr. MacDonald?” said the Tail Twister. ‘Now you have two trails Eomichbooks (E@)