Adventure Magazine Cover — page 81: what you’re looking at

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

“He will. And we'll help,” Putnam. murmured _ The work of arranging the fuel proceeded rapidly, the savages now keeping a sharp eye on their victim, for as surely as one drew within reach of the tethered feet he as surely received a kick and a string of caustic abuse. Once the girl clapped her hands to her ears as Willis caught a man under the jaw with a short kick and in provincial vernacular loudly expressed his opinion of him. “He doesn’t know you’re near,” apologized Putnam. “I must correct him later. But the best of men get careless of speech when in great danger. I swore fearfully on the morning of the bloody scout, when we caught Dieskau.” _ “He is a very brave man,” she murmured. “Oh! They bring coals from the fire to light the brush. I will shoot!” “No, no. It will take a little time for the fire to run round the circle. They’ve hitched him up loose so he can draw away and escape hurt till the circle is all ablaze. They’re taking their time. “There comes a man from the mouth of the gorge. He looks back. He has a companion. I want them all here together when I give the signal. The dogs must fall on them like so - many thunderbolts.” 3 ' Two more men now came from the mouth of the gorge, making three sentinels that Putnam and the girl had passed. The fire now burned briskly in front of the prisoner, sending out red tongues on each side. The sweat stood on Willis’ face and he often turned his gaze toward the ridge where Putnam had stood when sounding his call. As the smoke swept into his face he bowed his head. The wind turned it aside and his head came erect. As the heat began to bite into his flesh he took advantage of the slack, and swung out to one side and backward. As yet he had suffered no serious hurt or pain. But he knew that a fiery furnace was infinitely more merciful than this slow baking process. Once the heat became equal at all points he would pray for death. The cry of a loon rang out. Willis threw up his head. The flames had gained ground on his right, so now he could only sway to the left and backward. Lifting his voice as if shouting his death-song, he loudly called: “Tsrael Putnam, don’t let them roast me. You can’t save me. Don’t try. When the fire gets on my left shoot me and run like —— if you love Connecticut.” The girl was muttering over and over. ‘‘He suffers! He suffers! Oh, poor lad! Poor lad!” Once more Putnam gave the signal, this time so loudly that one or two of the savages jerked up their heads as if suspicious. The sport be- fore them, however, was too good to neglect. They were drunk with the lust to torment. And The Bushfighters they incued a circle and danced fae ~ around the straining form. They gibed jeered, and one leaped over the fiery barrier to tear off the scalp and dash it into the prisoner’s face; but angry hands pulled him back for a_ spoil-sport. Putnam’s face was gray with the strain. Where was young Brant with the dogs? To shoot one of the savages would mean immediate death to the prisoner. “T’m going to nail the man that seems to be the leader; then rush in and club my gun,” he muttered. “If I can’t get to the boy I’ll go down fighting; and you must shoot him.” “Something moves down there,” she hys- terically whispered, shaking his arm and point- ing toward the mouth of the gorge. Through the flames and the smoke Putnam glimpsed motion, a dark patch that approached with undulating movement. Then he made out the slight figure of the boy racing behind the pack. : Around the stake and the struggling figure of © the captive shrieked and danced the Potawat- omi, nearly a score of them, their stark figures doubling over until their filthy hair dragged on the ground. As they pranced stiff-legged they cut down imaginary foes, lunged and scalped the air with lusting knives and howled in an ecs- tasy of bestial passion. Onward swept the fell black pack of the Blind Seneca, unmuzzled and racing with slavering jaws straight as an arrow a the game which would not be denied them. ONE of the dancers lifted his head from between his knees and flung it far back, =v) yowling like a woods-cat, and through his half-closed lids beheld the onrushing beast with many heads. He came to a staggering halt and the man behind bumped into him and hurled him from the line. He tried to cry out, but the words froze on his snarling lips; and the next moment he was bowled over with in- exorable fangs buried in his throat. Into the fire and through it again leaped the huge beasts, their short-haired coats of black making each a four-legged devil, their blazing eyes and dripping jaws unlike anything the Potawatomi ever had encountered in the wide forests. On the edge of the mad mélange of screaming warriors and mouthing brutes danced the imp of a boy, shrieking commands and en- couragement, and shooting with bow and arrow whenever a warrior rolled clear of the fray. Ten dogs and twenty warriors. Ten devils and a score of terrified red men. Putnam shouted to the girl to remain in hiding and dashed into the fight, gun in one hand and ax in the other. The black pack and the warriors had wallowed back and forth through the burning brush, scat- tering it in smoking heaps. Putnam leapeda confused mass of brutes, two and four-legged, COM, SS 71 and — (C@ ies wd ver wits de) A us! AW Y Wiss: ee, > rf Rust ak att nha a\dumed fas ; RS vee LAER LT aN id Sea Hal sia hc, F i, fhe dl ST Dak) ee Tb aie oes ome SLE A A oe De et) NS 8 4 i i * Mi ay yas wth dab iarl ' Ca 8 wee \ . r RF Mag Alen a oo Bae 2° Ser ve m ‘ Gioo 3 \ | ee te ls BLN Be