Adventure Magazine Cover — page 32: what you’re looking at

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

fi Pele dank f La 2 at : ahh hil 2 é C 4 ih et ! “aM Lt} ‘4 c h shi ' M iittala oA 0D? eee i wy wor y, Ny ; Wt Ad At ep aT, hae iY 7 # nN Pas f . , ¥ ns is fy \ tie! Reet wes ’ 4) en Ul Te ou —% #74 5aNe ‘ meri : - ert eth Were a * \ i" i 22 Apparently the fierce screaming of the sor- cerer continued steadily; thus demonstrating that the other voices were those of spirits. There was the man’s voice, now crying aloud as-he went to the torture, the feeble complaints of the little children and the hopeless shrieks of the women. “That’s more’n a human being ought to stand,” muttered Putnam, his face now hard as granite. Grunts of amazement and fear sounded from the row of spectators. “T’ll give them some new medicine, the ——!” gritted Putnam. LEAVING his gun on the ground and pulling his knife, he crouched by the lodge and ran his fingers under the flap. aiting until the clamor inside increased to un- usual proportions—for now the sorcerer was about to complete his masterpiece in effect— Putnam raised the flap and entered. The sor- cerer was bending over a gourd of white earth and was rapidly smearing it over his face, all the time screeching like a demon. Suddenly he leaped erect and thrust his head through the opening. The spectators gasped in fear at the hideous pallor of his countenance, more terrible than the paint. Ducking back, he reached for the gourd, but stiffened, his mouth open, yet uttering no sound. He sensed the ranger’s presence and slowly turned his head, his mouth still agape. Put- nam caught him by the throat, breaking the spell. The death-cry rose in a shrill crescendo, _ accompanied by a frantic thrust with a French trade-knife. Putnam parried the blow and drove his own blade home. The death-yell ter- minated with startling abruptness and evoked a grunt of astonishment from those outside. The Frenchman crossed himself and exclaimed— “Mille diables!” The sorcerer’s form collapsed. He barely struck the ground before his hair was off. Crouching below the small opening, Putnam hurled the scalps of the sorcerer, the sentinel and the sentinel-killer into the group before the fire. With yelps of terror the warriors glared at the ghastly trophies. Their minds were stupefied. From the lodge had come the voices of the En- glish about to die beneath their axes. That had been a welcome assurance. But this death- cry of the medicine-man himself, so strangely terminated, formed a discord. Of course the sorcerer’s manito had pre- sented them with the three scalps; therefore they must be scalps of enemies. They stared stupidly at the three exhibits. Undeniably they were beholding examples of Potawatomi hair decorations. - With an inarticulate cry one of the warriors advanced a trembling finger and Adventure attention to the streak of gray that identified it beyond all doubt. Putnam by this time had rubbed some ofthe white earth over his face: Grimacing horribly, he allowed his pallid countenance to be seen at the opening for the space of two seconds. The savages howled at this astounding display of magic. The sorcerer, aided by his powerful manito, had scalped himself. Just what this marvelous and grewsome magic portended was beyond their simple minds to under- stand. Suddenly one of them gave a hoarse shout, thinking he had discovered the purpose of the magic. He frantically told his companions that the medicine-man had painted his face white to represent a white man. His manito was again telling them they should have white scalps. Now he would cause his scalp to leap back into the lodge and to its place on his head; and the seance would be over. But Putnam had not achieved his grand cli- | max. Seizing the center pole of the lodge, he began tumbling and rocking the lodge vio- lently. To the spectators this was a familiar evidence of the manito’s presence; and they braced themselves for further demonstrations of the god. Yanking and pulling on the pole, Putnam ducked under the flap of skin. As he crawled into the free air he carried the end of the pole with him. As he gained the bushes the lodge wilted to the ground and began to turn inside out. Find- ing his rifle, the ranger braced his heels and pulled the wreckage of the lodge toward him, thereby exposing the dead sorcerer. His whit- ened face and red poll were in fearful contrast. As one man the row of savages and the French- man rose to their feet, glaring at the dead man, then slowly shifted their gaze to the gray scalp at their feet. The sorcerer had been killed and scalped by his manito. The midnight slaying of English sentinels had angered the god. Lifting their voices in a long-drawn-out scream, savages and white ally bolted from the scene. As they ran the foremost man tripped over the body of the dead brave at the foot of the pine and pitched headlong. The mob swept over the prostrate man. And as he staggered to his feet it was only to go down again with the ranger’s ax in the back of his head. CHAPTER V ALONG DIESKAU’S PATH WELL satisfied with his night’s work, Put- nam returned to the post and found a squad of nervous men about to set forth in search of him. He reported the presence of the Western Indians and the Frenchman to ‘ = designated the scalp-lock of the sorcerer, calling the lieutenant, who sent a messenger to General “ 7) ag \. as oe ae Wa As! halal tals SRA ah baa Ay heyy Moy bts + 4 comichooks con Ned wesebaalie Rah Tue a he ' §