Adventure Magazine Cover, August 18, 1921 — page 113: what you’re looking at

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

The Doom Trail “Vell, it maype he is at der Fort,” re- flected Master van Dam. “He vouldt pe, if he vas,’ burgher on the next bench. not.” . “Vou are sure?” la? A third stout Dutchman removed his pipe from his mouth and blew a mouthful of smoke toward the ceiling. “Der gofernor is still at Cabptain van Horne’s,” he said, and immediately re- placed the pipe in his mouth. “To pe sure,” assented van Dam. “Der gofernor is only a little time married to Captain van Horne’s dotter. He lifs with dem vile der house in der Fort is mate bpretty for her.” ‘‘And where is Captain van Horne’s house?” I asked. : “In der Broad-Vay not far oop from der Fort. You valk across through Hanofer Square.” I thanked him and walked forth. - In Hanover Square, which was only a few steps distant, there was a crowd collected about the entrance to Cawston’s Tavern. Murray was standing in the doorway, Tom on one side of him, and a huge, red-haired giant in buckskin, with knife and toma- hawk at his belt on the other. I stared at > said a stout “Put he is the red-haired man, for he was the first — woodsman I had seen, observing with curiosity his shaggy locks and fur cap and the brutal ferocity of his face. I stared so long that I attracted the at- tention of Murray, who broke off his con- versation with the group surrounding him, and with a pale smile pointed me out to his buckskin retainer. The man scowled at me, and one hand went to his knife-hilt. I spoke to the citizen nearest me. “What is the occasion of the crowd?” I asked. ‘Tis Master Murray, the fur-trader, hath returned from London after winning his case before the Lords of Trade,” he answered. “How is that?” He regarded me suspiciously. ‘“‘Are you a stranger?” “T am but just landed from the same ship as carried Master Murray,” I assured him. “Ah!” His manner became impressive; plainly he considered himself one who imparts por- tentous news. 107 “Master Murray, as you will soon learn, sir, is our most enterprising merchant. He hath built up with much difficulty a valuable trade with the French, with the result that the business of the province hath doubled. “But the governor will have none of it, or so he says. He hath done al! that he may, even to passing laws against Master Murray’s trade; but now, it seems, Master Murray hath carried his case to the Lords of Trade, who have refused to approve the laws.”’ I thanked the man and pushed on through the crowd. So that was the story Murray was telling! And plainly he had the pres- tige and the following to make himself a dangerous force, even, as he had boasted, against the governor and the provincial authorities. But on the outskirts of the gathering I chanced to overhear another conversation which indicated that Murray’s hold upon public opinion was perhaps not so strong as my first informant had led me to believe. “He hath the devil’s own luck,” mur- mured a prosperéus-appearing citizen. “Aye,” said his neighbor bitterly; “they will ply a grand traffic over the Doom Trail.” The odd name, so sinister in its implica- tion, struck my imagination. I lingered behind the two, pretending to peer over their heads. ‘And ’tis these fools here who will pay for it in the long run,” answered the other. “And yourself and I,” rejoined the second. As I turned to leave, I met again the threatening glance of the red-haired giant which sought me out across the crowd. I tapped the nearest of the pair of disgruntled citizens upon the shoulder. “Pray, sir, who is the tall fellow in buck- skin on the steps?” The man edged away from me as sus- piciously as the first one I had accosted. “T am a stranger in your town,” I added. “°Tis a frontiersman,” he replied reluc- tantly; “one called ‘Red Jack’ Bolling.” “An ugly knave,” I commented. But the citizen and his friend only eved me askance, and I walked on, reflecting on the current of intrigue which I had un- covered beneath the placid life of the little town within two hours of my landing. © MICLOOKS C© 5}