Adventure Magazine Cover, February 3, 1921 — page 25: what you’re looking at

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

The Road to El Dorado “Tt is good. Setangya’s heart is warm,’ declared Joe, rising and quitting the tent with the knowledge’ that he was still a prisoner. He repaired to the outskirts of the vil- lage and once more found that a dozen young bucks had business there. They did not interfere with him nor draw too close, but when. they were not lounging and smoking ‘they were racing their ponies directly in front of him. He soon perceived that the chief’s statement about some of his young men being absent was a lie. With nothing better to do while he marked time he returned to the cinnamon bear and passed an hour watching the youths continue their efforts to count coup. He observed that several had copied his tactics of the day before, and by flirting the rawhide cord against bruin’s nose were able to jump in occasionally and success- fully register their daring. ONE young villain, barely able "to toddle around, approached within a few feet of the trapper and dis- charged a blunt-nosed arrow at him. This attack was vociferously applauded by the onlookers, and the child’s eyes took on the same stealthy, malevolent expression as that to be observed in his elders. Joe smoked on as if ignorant of what was going on about him. A larger boy snatched up a bow and drew an arrow to the head. Nor was this one of the blunt arrows used by the children in knocking over birds and other small game, but a hunting-arrow with lance-like head. Without moving a mus- cle except to part his lips in speaking, the trapper quietly warned: “Tf you shoot that arrow I'll take you by the neck and whip you with the rawhide until you can’t sit on a pony. Remember, whipped before all your people and none of them, not even your head chief, can stop me. Now go ahead and shoot.” The boy gritted his teeth and trembled all over at the indignity put upon him. A whipping, however, among people who never corrected the most wayward of their young, was an unspeakable indignity. And there was something in the trapper’s dark eyes which convinced the youngster that the threat would be made good. This beast of a white man, shaggy as a bull buffald before losing his Winter coat, 19 did magic. His medicine had been stronger than that of the other white man, who was Sitting Bear’s frifnd. He did not shout his words, and yet all within hearing believed he would do as he said. The taut bow slowly relaxed, the arrow dropping to the ground. The boy turned and fled as if chased by the devil. It would require many boyish coups to wipe out the disgrace of that flight. A young warrior pranced forward with a war-shield and propped it up in frent ef the trapper as if to protect him from the assaults of the children. This amused the spectators immensely, and many were the gibes and insults hurled at the white man. Realizing that there could be ne satisfac- tion in trying to answer a heeting mob, the trapper picked up the shield, oravely thanked the young man and strode away. Under a pretense of watching the pony herd he started again for the outskirts of the village to watch for the coming of Tom Reason. He had passed Old Oakes’ tent when his steps were halted by semething striking against the shield on his back. His first thought was that seme child had taken a shot at him. But on facing about and swinging the shield to the front he was surprized to behold an arrow that was entirely different from any used by the Kiowas, or by any of the plains tribes for that matter. The head was barbed in shape and made of obsidian instead of iron. A deer-sinew held the head to a ten-inch foreshaft of hard wood, which in turn was inserted in a reed and further secured by sinew. The reed was tipped with feathers, and so slightly had the head penetrated the shield that even while the trapper was staring at it it fell to the ground. With a growl of rage Joe plucked a long- butcher-knife from his belt and ran teyward Old Oakes’ tent; but before he could reach it the flap was thrown back and the gam- bler kneeled in the opening, a long pistol covering the trapper, a bowie-knife being clutched in the other hand. To add to the tableau, Sitting Bear and Walking Wolf, the medicine man who worshiped his hair, came around the tent and with a glance took in the situation. Sitting Bear shouted to his warriors, who appeared from all sides as if by magic and ran in between the two white men. The trapper COMICLOOOkKS (C@