Adventure Magazine Cover — page 82: what you’re looking at

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

72 Macson cabin. Big Simon even had digni- fied me by dubbing me a spy. I felt im- pelled to confess— “TI came through on a British pass.” “It would be necessary,”’ he agreed. With a flash of interest he asked: ‘‘Have you that pass with you? No, no! I mustn’task that. You'll need it to get back. Here comes Os- car with our dinner.” His negro cook placed between us a wide strip of clean bark on which was heaped some very lean beef, freshly killed, and some sweet potatoes. We used our knives and fingers. There was a mug for each, how- ever, ouly the drink was a crock of water. General Marion added a dash of vinegar to his mug and offered me some, but I did not Telish it. After the first mouthful of beef I gazed about and he read my wants and re- gretted: “I’m very sorry, but we have no salt. It’s hard come by. When we capture a supply we parcel it out among good Whig families, a bushel to each cabin. You'll be going back direct to Charleston or to Angus Macson’s cabin?” “Direct: to Charleston—I don’t think J would be welcome at Macson’s.”’ “He’s a good pdtriot. His boys have done good work, too. I’m expecting them to join me soon. You'd best strike for Georgetown. The British post there will honor your pass. The Tories on the Pedee and Lynch Creek might not be gentle with you, especially if you told them you werea neutral. If any of the irregular bodies of men came up with you they’d murder you for your coat, even though you were the Prince of Wales.” “I must go back asI came. I hid my pa- pers under a tree some distance up the creek.” He nodded and fell to brooding over some- thing. Then he asked— _ “Why did your uncle send this money to the Macsons?”’ The question came like the stab of a sword, searching out the only vital part of the whole business. Without any hesitation I answered: “You whipped Gainey and Barfield. Uncle David holds that his Majesty’s troops must win during this—the worst year of the var from your point of view—or lose the fight.” Marion’s face was transfigured and he gently smote his hands together and softly exclaimed: Adventure ‘Leave it to a merchant to read the truth ina trade orina fight. I can almost forgive him for peing a Tory for his belief. For mark you, young man, neither king nor Tory can whip us this year or next.” He raised his fingers to his lipsand gave the peculiar signal the half-wit had sounded in alarming Ganner’s “Regulators.” A tall angular man came toward us, lead- ing a horse. General Marion said to me: “T regret you can’t go to Georgetown. This man will guide you.” I had expected Elsie Macson and my dis- appointment was keen. “T must go the way I came. I have no choice.” ‘“‘When we meet again I hope you will have found yourself—on the right side. Good-by.”’ To my guide: “You will keep with him so long as he needs you. And no blindfolding.”’ wa AS I rode off behind my guide I bes p ; had an opportunity to observe something of the island outside of the camp in the hollow. The place was very inaccessible. The higher portions were heavily wooded while the lowlands were smothered in river-swamp and canebrake. Where there had been well-defined paths the patriots’ axes had felled trees and made them impassable. At dozens of points a handful of riflemen could have stood off half a regiment. There were quite a few cattle grazing in the openings and a greater number were running half-wild in the more remote sec- tions, my guide informed me. I also saw several patches of maize being tended by wounded men. My guide seemed a simple soul and kept looking back at me and in- dulged in much chuckling. This irritated re until I learned it was meant for homage. Among other things he said: ‘“‘Gineral will wallop ’em like a rattler swallerin’ a catbird! Lordy, but ain’t we gone cold an’ hungry! Gineral lost his blanket when camp caught fire. Went nearly a year without one. An’ hungry! Many a time we had to wait till some one could knock over a squirrel or find a terra- pinin theswamp. But that’s all ended now the gentry has begun fetchin’ hard money to him. We git muskets an’ bayonets from the Britishers, even when they think they’ve well scouted us an’ there ain’t a man-jack COmiclbook (©