Adventure Magazine Cover — page 27: what you’re looking at

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

The Bushfighters it would require a most cunning savage to get any advantage of him. “That is, when he’s himself. But his fool notions may have upset him so that he’s lost his ears and eyes,’’ Putnam muttered. A gun clicked and Putnam vanished. “That you, cap’n?” Softly called a voice. “Maybe. Who the —— are you? Show yourself,” returned Putnam. “T know it’s you, cap’n,” was the reply; and the figure of Willis rose from the ground, holding his long Kentucky rifle in one hand and a fresh scalp in the other. “Lad, you fooled me,” admiringly admitted Putnam. “Thought sure you was two rods to the right and behind the bushes. I won’t worry about you any more.” “One of Montcalm’s Mohawks,” murmured Willis. ‘‘French ax in his belt. Painted and all fussed up with feathers and oil. I’ve hid the gun where we can get it again.” “You're sure he ain’t one of our Mohawks?” anxiously asked Putnam. “Sure. French ax tells that. He shot at me first. Oh, I know the keepers of the eastern door. But take a look and satisfy yourself.” “Vou found no trace of her?” asked Putnam. “Nary a sign,” sighed Willis. “And I scouted closer’n I ever did before. But take a look at the blood-thirsty beast and we’ll look for her farther. “We almost met head on. I let him shoot first, because I hankered for cover. I jumped and he fired a second too late. Made a hole in my hat. I shot him without lifting my rifle from the hip. Drilled him right between the eyes. Mighty pretty shot. Here he is.” Putnam gave a look and nodded his head. _ “Ves, He’s one of Montcalm’s praying In- dians. His leather belt is French as well as his ax. No Indian ever made that belt and the wallet hitched to it.” “You came along before I’d time to peek into the wallet. Probably holds his paints,” said Willis as he kneeled and opened the leather pouch. “Well, if that don’t chase the devil round a stump!” he exclaimed, holding up a strip of birch-bark. ‘“‘Some one writ on it with a charred stick.” Putnam snatched it studied it with picked brows for a few moments, then disgustedly confessed— “Can’t make head nor tail out of it.” “Tt’s French. Let me try my eye on it,” said Willis. He ran his eves over it several times, his lips moving silently. Then his face went gray with pain and fear. Turning to Putnam, he muttered: “T don’t understand. It can’t be she wrote it!’”’ “Read it,’ ordered Putnam. ‘Tt can’t be she done it,” groaned Willis. alt goes like this: 17 “<*M{, de Vaudreuil or M.de Montcalm. The English fear much—or much afraid. They will not attack Ticonderoga. A swift stroke now will give you a great victory. “At the Sign of the Red Bull’s-Eyes.’ ’ “She did write it!” muttered deel rub- bing his strong chin. ‘This Mohawk*was her messenger. She made good use of her little visit to General Lyman. meet this dead Indian? I flushed him east of Fort Anne. “Did he meet her farther east? If so why was he coming round the foot of the lakes? If she be east of the lake why doesn’t she take her own message to Ticonderoga?” “She was afraid of being caught. She was said Willis, and he heaved a love-sick sigh. This did not satisfy Putnam, who shook his head and scowled in deep meditation. Then without lifting his head he slowly informed the other: “She’s south of Lake George. She dosent want to go to Ticonderoga. She figures she’s of more value to the French down here. She plans to pick up information and send it in, She doesn’t know we’ve. been to Fort Edward. It’s like her impudence to go back there to get more news from General Lyman. We'll camp here. To-morrow you will scout to the lake and call at Fort William Henry and see if she has been there. If so, follow her. But where did she. doubling her chances of getting word through,” If you find no trace return to old Fort Anne. Ill go back to Fort Edward. She’s either hiding between here and the fort, or else she’s inside of Ticonderoga.” ge CAPTAIN PUTNAM arrived at Fort Edward three hours after sunrise, hay- ing failed to find any signs of the girl on the way. He at once sought General Ly- . man and found him pacing back and forth behind the fort, scowling fiercely, his fists clenched and arms swinging. As Putnam halted and waited to be addressed Lyman groaned— “Make’s the fifth.” ‘Another sentinel, sir?’ spoke up Putnam. “Glad to see you, Israel. Yes; makes the fifth. Poor fellow was killed during the night. His body was picked up some distance back in the woods. Scalped. Only body that we’ve found.” “No alarm given?” “Not a sound. His gun was found loaded just below the stockade. Just as if something reached down from the sky and snatched him up. Men are in a panic. 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