Adventure Magazine Cover — page 80: what you’re looking at

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

wy ) ; 4 ida af AP tte he PO EOP ee ‘ at Ue be as) ee : : a). 9 q us i . +a Kah ee bey ! c , : Hd ‘ a" ‘ ‘ ' ,, * J Ais yeas oh he's LF , j * . a ni Wg A ty ze ¥qey' wy" , ; ' h 3 r . oui wl eT RY PO ay Pel ea ay poe te W Tpry ; i ‘ 7, oad Sh i eA i Ly A ed ,% 1 a } hae Py, — =" =. = ae died every day in a dig the size of Searle that it seemed logical to expect to - find some dead bodies about the streets, and I knew that the victims of the hypno- sis lacked the wit to remove their dead. Aiterward I found that, dying, the poor creatures had crept into holes and corners. I have never quite understood this. I drove rather aimlessly. ThenI thought of the city jail and hurried along to Fourth and Yesler. For a moment I actually en- tertained the idiotic notion that the people in jail might have remained untouched, but - the jail was empty. Evidently the police had let out all the prisoners before the end came. Rather more aimlessly than before, I drove slowly back to Second. Then, touched by another absurd idea, I turned up Union toward the post-office. I would go to my box and see if there was any mail, as I had done daily for many years. Of course there wasn’t any, but, like a child, I made sure. _ Then, still like a child that wants to play with whatever attracts it, I noticed the ‘three telephones on the north wall of the post-office building. My hand was in my pocket; I felt for a nickel. I remember thinking that there was no danger of the line’s being busy, as I gravely put the receiver to my ear and dropped the nickel in the slot. I waited, as usual, for central, rather enjoying the absurdity of my action. Then— “Hello!” I stood petrified. Surely I was dream- ing. Ihad imagined I hearda voice. Yes, that was it and I would have to be careful about playing the fool this way. When one believes one hears a voice, and the usual voice at that, one is nearing the dan- ger-line. I was about to put the receiver back upon the hook, when I heard again— “Hello,” very faintly and timorously. There was no mistake. I had heard a voice. But had I? Or was I mad? The shock of that simple, everyday word was tremendous. Crusoe’s finding of the footprint on the sand was nothing to hear- ing a voice in a world where speech was dead. Making the greatest effort of my life, I answered. 3 “Yes,” I said, trembling like a leaf. There was no reply. So I had imagined it. Had I? I did not know; I could not decide. Frantic with hope and fear—hope - that I had found another human being in - . ~— ~ aig a oe oe. rs ——— —- - ~ 7” inn ti >. ~ =* > _ ee Coo Oe = ~_ Ne ee > ee . a a el on a oft AS 7 ott, ™% s * ax ~ = “a wea igh apy eae “2 A : , a «7 . “ “> a a al | sy oy = — Fa > - “ > ¥ —< ‘all that nals fear that 1 had ae thought I had—I poured a torrent of language into the phone. I don’t know what I said; I did not know what I was saying when I spoke. Then, suddenly, with a chill of fear that swiftly turned into the hot rage of anger with the thrill of anticipated revenge, I thought that some Hindu had stayed at telephone headquarters, expecting that if any one had escaped them the phone would act as a trap. Trap! Well, I would see about that trap. The devil had imitated a woman’s voice! I would pretend and I would get that Hindu. I had some vague idea, at that moment, of making sure he should die very slowly. I stopped talking, my heart going like a trip-hammer; I felt out of breath. Then, very timidly, came the vuice again— , “Are you an American?”’ “You bet,” I answered joyfully, for no brute of a Hindu that ever lived could imi- tate that voice. “Oh!” she said. “Where are you?” I jabbered like an idiot. There was no reply and I realized that the fact-of my being a white man might not be altogether reassuring “to a woman who believed she was the last of her sex. We used to read a great deal about the chivalry of white men, but a lot of that was fiction. Besides, the girl must have seen the utter beastliness of thousands of white men when crazed by fear on that last dreadful day. This girl would realize that she was entirely alone with this unseen stranger on the other end of the wire. Could she trust herself with him? What sort of a man was he? And, at best, he was only a man and she was the last woman. At length, speaking bravely but with an obvious effort, she said— “T will see you, but remember I have a revolver and I know how to use it!” Her voice grew firm as she said that. “Well,” I spoke joyfully, “I haven’t but I don’t blame you for having one. I promise you you won’t need it.” I felt that last tribute to my own charac- ter was pardonable, under the circum- stances. “T am at the Fourth Avenue exchange,” she said. T hung up carefully so as not to jar her | ear; then, es — ~ : eS 8 ee ane 3275 - 1 s ~ — ~ ae = —— ~— ss > = orgetting all about the car, TL