Adventure, December 3, 1920 — page 80: what you’re looking at

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

their eyes to the chief, who seemed as calm as ever. He and the Golden One talked, the chief quietly and the girl excitedly, and he nodded to the men. Slowly they arose and left us free. = “Take it easy, fellows,’’ Senhor Locke advised us. “I think we'll come through without any more rough stuff. I’m getting the hang of this thing now.” | We arose, set our backs to the wall, and breathed. Our American comrade began talk- ing to the chief, pointing at us and shaking his head. After a time the chief spoke curtly to Googoo and his men. Looking surprized, they went outdoors. The chief quietly sat down and listened to further things said by Senhor Locke. A long talk between them followed. The Golden One became shy again, standing with her gaze on the floor, glancing up quickly now and then and blushing as she met the eye of the black- bearded man. Suddenly, at something the chief said, she paled, stared at the Tucandeira, opened her lips, then changed her mind and said nothing. Soon after that Senhor Locke nodded and turned to us. “Come on, let’s go,” he said. “Where?” I asked. “Back to our shack. Everything’s fixed up until tomorrow. Googoo and his gang will ride herd on-us, but outside of that we’re as free as if we were in jail.” Before we left, though, he put out his right hand to the Golden One. She took it, and they stood silent, looking deep into each other’s eyes. They made the most striking pair I have ever seen, senhores—the man, white of skin and black of hair, square-jawed and strong and clean-limbed, and the princess of the tribe with her flaming hair and wide eyes, her dainty figure, and her clear skin glowing pink above and below her brilliant feather-dress and girdle. He smiled and spoke softly to her, and as he released her hand she looked both happy and afraid. At the door of our own house the two guards were waiting for us. They had been among those whom we fought in the house of the chief, and they showed marks of the struggle; but their faces now were like wood, and they gave no sign of either friendliness or enmity as we passed between them. “Well, gents, a merry time has been had by all, and now I reckon you want to know what it’s all about,” said the Tucandeira. ‘So I'll give you an earful. Boiled down, this is the situation: 3 “Our little friend the Golden One has reached the age when, according to the ideas of these people, she should take a man. In fact, she’s well past that age, for I understand that the Amazon Indians mate at fourteen or even Adventure s younger, while she must be at least seventeen. Up in my country that would be considered pretty young, but of course a girl matures quicker down here. Anyhow, the chief has felt —and perhaps she herself has—that it’s about time she made some chap happy or miserable, according to the luck of the game. “But the trouble was to find the man. She has flatly refused to hook up with any of the young sprigs in this social set. Can’t blame her for that, either. She realizes she’s white and far superior to any of them, even though she’s known only their kind of life since she was a kiddie, and she refuses to become the squaw of any copper-skin. “‘The chief is a wise old skate, and he under- stands. So he’s ordered his men to rope in every white or near-white man they run across, bring him here with as little damage as possible, and let the little lady give him the once-over. “Up till now they’ve drawn blanks. Several men have come and gone—and I’ve got a fat hunch that they didn’t go far after they left here. They left their guns behind, as you probably noticed. Besides, you fellows say you never heard of these people, and if any of the chaps who were here got out again they sure would have talked, and the yarn would have gone around for hundreds of miles. They didn’t suit the Golden One, and so they were just taken out and disposed of, or else my guess is wrong. “T don’t suppose it ever entered her pretty head that she was sending those fellows to death, but that’s about what it came to. We'd be on our way to the same port right now, only she seems to be—er—slightly interested.” “She is more than interested, senhor,” said Pedro. “You are the man she has been waiting for. I am not a woman’s man myself, but I have met a few and I can read the signs. And I thank you, senhor, for saving us. I can see now that the one you call Googoo, and his men, were about to drag us away and crush our heads.” “Well, since you mention it, that’s about the size of it. But forget that gratitude stuffi— we’re all in the same boat after all. The next move in the game is this: I’m elected to do a little stunt tomorrow just to prove that ’m worthy to be the Golden One’s man. The chief can’t get that Spaniard idea out of his head, and if the choice were left with him he’d pick you, Pedro, for the girl’s partner. But she can’t see it that way, so he figures to make me prove I’m a man before the wedding bells ring out. I don’t know just what the stunt is, but he calls it the test of the ¢ucandeira.” WE GLANCED swiftly at each other and back at him. My skin began to prickle and crawl. “Judging from your squirmy expressions, I reckon the test is rather unpleasant, what? I 7 COPMNICLOOOKS (©)