Adventure Magazine Cover, December 18, 1919 — page 162: what you’re looking at

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

148 CHAPTER XI ‘THE PILLAGER SHAKES THE CALF’S TAIL HE village was quiet and I remained in my hut until near sundown, then ventured forth, anxious for the return of Flat Mouth. If he had had no mishaps with hostile Indians he should make the trip to the lower Mandan village quickly. The men of the village, as was their custom, were lounging on top of their huts, smoking and bragging. Their arrogance was almost past belief. They believed themselves in- finitely superior to the white race. They had seen but few whites, and these they looked upon as partly demented because of their willingness to give guns and ammu- nition for such worthless things as hides and robes. 3 But this sleepy calm was destroyed as I strolled toward Choke-Cherry’s hut in hope of getting a word of encouragement to the girl. One moment all was peace with even the cur dogs silent, the next shrill screams were splitting the air and warriors were dropping from their huts, snatching up weapons and rushing ahead to investi- gate. The savages’ first thought was a surprize attack. I ran with the group that was making for Le Borgne’s hut. Wecame to an abrupt halt and beheld a strange spectacle. An Indian woman, with blood streaming from her arms and breast, with her hair matted over her face, stood under the porch of the chief’s hut and was pouring out what I took to be a bitter tirade. The warriors with me instantly began falling back, betraying every symptom of fear. I held my ground, curious to learn more. The woman cle ched her fists and swung her arms and shrieked out her words ‘ina steady’stream until the door flew open and Le Borgne stepped out, his ax in his hand. ~ ; He was smiling, but his long mane of black hair was much disheveled. He stood before the woman, and I fully expected to witness another murder. She ran to him and hissed and spat like a cat, even attempting to claw his face. He jumped away from her and walked toward the corral; but swift as a wild thing she was at his side, then ahead of him, screaming, clawing at his face and even bringing blood to his brawny chest. He wheeled to one side to avoid her, Adventure and her talons ripped down his arm, leaving red streaks. Undoubtedly it was the first time Le Borgne was-ever blooded without striking back. His face was a study in rage and fear. Whichever way he turned she was at his side or before him, her tongue never silent, her claws ripping at his arms and chest. Knowing his people were watching him, he would not depart from his dignity and run for it. Never once did he threaten violence, even to the extent of pushing her away. He held his head high to escape her hooked fingers, but beyond that he did not try to defend himself. Superstition was his master, and he knew the woman was de- mented and - believed that most woful would be his fate did he, in anger, lay the weight of a finger on one touched by the. Great Spirit. He began working his way back to his hut, jumping from side to side, but never: in- creasing his pace beyond a brisk walk. Then she slipped in some filth and fell, and he seized the opportunity to gain his hut. She was at his heels when he entered, but the door slammed before she could follow him. She beat on the door with her fists and head and yelled in fury. None of the warriors ventured to remove her. They had returned to their roofs and were eager spectators of. the scene. I pitied the poor thing and finally took it upon myself to go to her. As I touched her on the shoulder she wheeled on me like a mad wolf, but the sight of a white instead of a red man seemed to calm her. She made no resistance when I took her arm and gently led her away. She went willingly enough, but the gaze she fastened on my face was not that of a sane person. I walked with her through the village at random, taking pains to widen the dis- tance between us and the chief’s hut.- At last some women furtively stole from cover and relieved me of her. It was horrible to hear her heart-broken moaning, artd I lost no time in getting it out of my ears. In my haste to escape I found I had returned to Le Borgne’s hut, and I waited for him to come out. He preferred, however, to be alone. buffalo tallow on his wounds. Feeling faint and remembering I had not eaten anything for hours, I sought out the hut where Choke-Cherry-was tempo- rarily housed, gave him an inch of tobacco cComicbooks ~ Perhaps he was busy rubbing - €om