Adventure Magazine Cover — page 78: what you’re looking at

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

éJi ss? a »’ ae F ayy ads 2 (3 68 EZ _ Adventure the woods and he was there, fighting in the darkness! You two were friends, but you ‘might kill each other before you knew. So I called back to him. It was all I could do.” “And it made him disobey my orders and fol- low after you,” sighed Putnam. ‘Well, I little thought I should ever work with you, young woman; but the Almighty’s ways of doing things are strange. We should be going.” -“Ttis time. Wemust scout carefully. They may be nearer than I’ve thought. It will never do to be discovered.” And she shivered and crossed herself; for both knew that premature discovery would send the ax into Willis’ head. At first she would have had Putnam follow ~ some distance behind her, but after he had cast about on both sides of the beaten path, reading signs which the'average ranger would have over- looked, she found a new respect for him and was glad to have him assume full responsibility for their advance. Nothing occurred to disturb their cautious progress until late afternoon, when Putnam halted and pointed to a stick in the middle of the trail. It was two inches wide and about ‘eight inches long. On its flat surfaces were carved certain ar- bitrary characters, the first of which was heart- shaped, The girl stooped to pick it up as Put- “nam held back, but he caught her hand, and _ warned: “Do not touch it. We must move back and leave no signs.” He retreated a rod and led the way into the thicket. “How could a stick hurt us?” she protested. “Tt can’t hurt us. It may tell us things. It is one of the prayer-song sticks the Potawatomi use. The marks on it help them remember the prayer they wish to sing. I’ve seen a captive Potawatomi howling his song and following the signs with his fingers while some of our Mo- hawks were getting ready to roast him. The owner of that stick will come back for it unless the band is too far advanced on its way.” They waited until the girl grew worried. “Joseph Brant would say it was the dead sor- cerer’s medicine to delay us until after Ephraim Willis is killed,” she whispered. “Tf no one shows up after I’ve slowly counted twenty we'll go on,” surrendered Putnam. He started his count and was not half through when the girl caught his arm, her small face seeming to be all eyes as she stared up the trail. A solitary Indian, coming at a trot, was running toward them. He carried a bow and arrows, and at first sight might be supposed to be wear- ing a black mask. As he ran he swung his head from side to side and searched the ground. Then with a grunt of joy he observed the stick and pounced upon it and thrust it into his breech-clout string of é beaten bark, and turned and raced swiftly up the trail. With a sharp intake of the breath the girl poked her gun through the bushes and sighted it on the bounding figure. Putnam clamped a hand over the hammer before she could raise it. “Are we to lose. a chance of wiping out one of M’sieu Willis’ captors?” she fiercely demanded. “Tt would only hurry Willis to the stake,” was the quiet reply. ‘“The man’s face is painted black. He is wearing mourning for the sor- cerer I killed. He will wear it. until Willis is killed. “His black face makes me take new courage. The boy hasn’t been harmed yet. “Tf you had shot that Indian there would have been the risk of the gun being heard. If the band is too far away for that, then would be the wonder why the man did not come back. Either others would have been sent after him to discover where he fell and bled, or else they. would be afraid, thinking him killed, and they would kill Willis offhand.” “You are right,” she tremulously whis- pered. “I only saw a fiend that held my dear love prisoner.” “Recently one of your allies,” he firmly re- minded “No! Not one of my allies. France has used them, as it was either that or have the English” use them. “Let us be fair, Captain Putnam. I hate war. I hate all this cruelty, this killing of women and little children. What a beautiful country if men would only receive it from the hands of the good God arid love it! God soon send the time when French and English can stand side by side and not face each other in battle. Oh, may God soon send that time!’’ “Amen,” softly murmured Putnam, deeply touched by her outburst. THEY came to a hardwood growth that extended wedge shape up the slope and made a detour to escape treading on the carpet of last year’s dead leaves. Enter- ing the evergreens, they reached the top of the ridge and gazed down on the camp of the Pota- watomi. A natural abatis of prostrated trees and bould- ers lay between them and the fire. Already a blaze was necessary to oust the shadows in the gorge, as the sun was now setting and only the heights of the mountains retained the glory of the day. The girl gave a little cry, then clapped a hand over her mouth and pointed a finger. But Put- nam already had seen it—the figure of a man, naked to the waist and tied to a spruce which had been trimmed into a post. In the flicker- ing half-lights there was no identifying the pris- oner, but both the ranger and the girl knew it COMICMOOOKS