Adventure Magazine Cover — page 51: what you’re looking at

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

to allow the delectable anil compassion to blot out the rest of the picture. This orderly view of the amazing situation opened the door for jealousy and rage. The house had been made a rendezvous between _the girl and Sergeant Champers, alias French Spy. They had met there by arrangement; they had fled together. At the desperate plead- ing of the man she had struck him down from behind. True, he did not believe she knew whom she was assaulting, but her readiness and courage to strike the blow evidenced how closely the two had linked their interests together. Still he could have forgiven the blow—that was nothing—if only Champers, or whoever he was hadn’t presented such an attractive figure in his scarlet uniform and silver-laced hat. - “But she knows his good looks were in for a spoiling if she hadn’t given me that clout over the head,” he told himself as he sped down the street, seeking the fugitives. “If I'd only ’a’ known! I'll see him swing yet. He must ’a’ stole the paper through the window when the officer was at the door.” Out of this galling misery one fact stood bedazzling. Jan the Rogue’s girl had kissed him; and a few days before she had scorned him when he but touched her hand. . All this was very bewildering to the ranger’s honest and simple mind. chantment. her small person? Was it the real maid who took his head in her arms and mothered him? HE HAD started down the hill in- stinctively. The two would most surely endeavor to escape from the town. As e neared the river street he turned to search the northern limits of the town, where he be- lieved the fugitives would essay to run the Ahead of him some roisterers were entering a drinking-den, and the outpouring light for a moment revealed a figure flitting along under the trees,-a slim form that seemed to be en- veloped in a long, dark cloak. Astounded at his rare fortune, Willis quickened his gait, running noiselessly on his toes and keeping on the alert against a surprize attack by the girl’s companion. Drawing close to his quarry, he leaped like a cat and his long brown fingers were clutching an arm. Instantly his captive wheeled and lunged at him viciously and as luck ruled the knife struck the barrel of the rifle, emitting sparks. “You'd kill me?” he sorrowfully asked, re- taining his hold on the slim wrist. “T think I shall some time,” was the angry retort. — my kidneys! Willis Young Brant!” roared The Bushfighters “Joseph Brant of the Mohawks,” was the # It savored of en- | How many maids were there in. 4l haughty correction. “Let go my hand.” Willis released him and demanded— “Where is Elizabeth Lidindick?” “How should I know?” “You are wearing her cloak.” “You have eyes like a weasel. a Perhaps it can tell ae ) snarled the “Enough of blind words, Joseph Brant.” Either tell me or say you won’t. I’m on the king’s business. The girl and a Frenchman, a French spy, just escaped from me up the hill——” “A Frenchman!” exclaimed the boy. ‘The girl tricked me! She wanted to come here and get something from her father’s house. I was . to wait at the Van Woerts’ farm. I waited two days. She did not come. Then I came to find her. “This Frenchman? Shall I know him for that when I see him? ‘The girl shall not be harmed, but the Mohawks shall dance on the Frenchman’s roasted body.” “He is dressed in a scarlet uniform. He pre- tends to be a sergeant of the Jersey Blues. He speaks perfect English,” informed the ranger, “We'll make him whine in French before we finish killing him,” boasted the boy, drawing away Wait, How came you by her cloak?” “She left it with me at the farm. I trusted — her and she has fooled me. But her Frenchman shall pay for it.” Willis gritted his teeth over the boy’s charae- terization. “Her Frenchman!”’ He hoped the Mohawks: would get him, They were still clamoring for victims to cover the bones of Hendrick and others of their chiefs killed in the war. “Yes, let him roast—roast slow,” he muttered. Then to the boby— “He must not get through to Ticonderoga.” “Talking with you wae find him,” the boy reminded him. With that he darted away with the lightnéss of a leaf blown by the wind. The ranger ran after him and for several rods kept at his heels; then called out: “The town is closed. No one can leave it without a pass.” Young Brant laughed mockingly, and out of sheer deviltry raised the terrible scalp-cry of the Mohawks and vanished in the darkness. The cry, and the public’s taut state of nerves, brought soldiers pounding down the street and _ sent straggling householders scurrying to cover. For half an hour it was persistently believed by many that the Caughnawaga Iroquois had stolen into Albany. Firés were built in the street; watchman were sent up and down to proclaim all was well. Ask the comichooks.colns — eC <... i