Adventure Magazine Cover, December 18, 1919 — page 153: what you’re looking at

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

Gentlemen of the North Le Borgne dropped his redstone pipe. Although he still grinned, his big mouth was agape as he looked. Rising to his full six feet, he slowly approached her. She did not wince nor move, and red and white fought the ancient battle of lust and denial for twice sixty seconds. Then the chief gingerly extended his fingers to touch her hair where the sunlight’ made it spun- gold. _Her eyes narrowed ominously. I darted out my left foot and disturbed the balance of one of the buffalo heads. The ‘noise caused the chief to turn in time to see the skull gently rocking. I was staring at the girl as if oblivious to the phenomenon. He drew back his handand rubbed his chin, studying the skull. Plainly his maniio was jealous and was warning him to keep his hands from the strange woman. He glanced from the painted skull to the blazing eyes and sun-crowned head of the girl. Then he retreated to his robes, picked up his pipe and summoned Choke- Cherry., When his brother entered Le Borgne gave him an order that caused Flat Mouth to frown. : Addressing Miss Dearness in Chippewa, the Pillager said: “He says for you to go. He said some- thing in another tongue I’did not under- stand.” “T have my knife,’’ she murmured. “You are perfectly safe,’’ I spoke up in English. “The Pillager and I are still here. We will take you away very soon. Remember, you must not show any fear.” Her head went high, and she gave me a smile as she bowed to Le Borgne and fol- lowed the waiting Choke-Cherry. Le Borgne forgot his pipe in staring after her; then he asked me— “Why do you come here and bring no presents?” “The white woman’s father will send many presents. He said it was foolish for me to bother with a few. We were told to come and ask you to tell where our trader is to live. Then we were to return very quick. The Cheyennes are better robe- makers than the Minnetarees, as they use beads and porcupine-quills, but they are south of the Missouri and the white chief does not want to go below the river.” ‘No frade can cross this part of the Missouri unless I say it can,’’ informed Le Borgne. ‘The Cheyennes are bad. They would not put presents under the 139 stem and make peace with us. I will carry the pipe against them soon. I will call a council of my old men and give you an answer about your trader.” He rose to terminate the interview. ‘“‘We are in great haste to go back. Can the council be held today?” I asked. “Soon — today — another day — some- time.” It was useless to seek to improve this most unsatisfactory reply. Rugged and conscienceless, inexorable in moods, thor- oughly self-dependent because of his brute strength, the man typified the muddy river which was even now carving new channels for itself and clawing banks and cottonwoods into its swollen waters. Just as the very country seemed to possess a savage personality unlike the Red River country, so did this savage despot differ widely from our northern chiefs. When he stood up to dismiss us I supposed his act was a bit of perfunctory courtesy. Not so, nor would it have been in keeping with his egotism. He proposed to walk with us and, as we set forth, he picked up a heavy war-ax and idly swung it by its rawhide thong. The Pillager glanced at the ax and shifted to the man’s blind side, and I noted my friend carried one hand gracefully on his hip, near the haft of the hidden knife. Walking thus between us, he kept up a running fire of comments upon the white men, whom he said he loved as brothers, and added some mild criticism of the absent H. B. agent, at the Mandan vil- lage, whom we were to oppose, but never once did he refer to Miss Dearness. I grew uneasy, thinking he intended to pro- ceed to the guest hut.. Did he do that, I should look for his savage whim to prompt him peremptorily to demand possession of the girl. To my great relief he halted when some distance from the hut and, stepping aside to a porch, informed— “The wife I lost is in here.” He did not request us to tarry, but as we walked on we glanced back. He stood in the doorway, loudly calling his woman by name. She did not appear and he entered the hut. We halted and saw him emerge, dragging a woman after him. Wearing the same grin and moving as deliberately as if lighting his pipe, he struck the poor creature over the head with his ax, and she fell lifeless in front CGORNICLOOOKS a!