Adventure Magazine Cover — page 25: what you’re looking at

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

Buried Gods from the last camp pretty well what had happened, and at the worst he could con- tinue on to the friendly Wakikuyu people, who were friends of the doctor, and so to Nairobi where he could begin over again. He regarded Dorkin once more. AIl- though Dorkin certainly was a rough-neck he appeared to bear no malice, and, thought Dorsay, he would be more than pleased to get rid of him, as long as he was not con- tinuing on the search for the supposed ivory cache. “That’s a bet then; but you’re goin’ to play straight this time, Dorkin?”’ A stream of oaths attested to his sincerity. “Yer know,” he added, ‘“‘I wus a ruddy fool, I wus. Abaht that there dirty rag, y know. Sorter got it in me ’ead that it ’ud bring me luck. Course, it ain’t no good cep’ fer wot it says, and I know that orl right. Then I finks yew’re a sorter new chum. But, oh my, I s’y!” he grinned affably. “‘Yew’re a wonder, yew are!” “Yes,” agreed Dorsay. ‘I couldn’t un- derstand why you seemed to put such a value on it anyway.” “Oh, I’m like that, Iam. Once I gits a hidea in me ’ead,. carn’t sorter git it aht. Arsk Simpson. ’E allus says I’m wooden- ’eaded. But there, we’re chums nah.” . He dived into his “‘scoff-box”’ for a bottle of whisky to prove the statement, and afterward began seriously to gather the goods which would be necessary for Dorsay. “Carn’t give yer a tent,” he said; “‘but, ‘ere—” handing out a water-proof sheet— “ver kin mike one o’ that till yer git back.” In the afternoon Dorsay sent up, demand- ing an interview with the chief, Yamba; but a refusal came back, making an appoint- ment for the following morning. When twilight came Dorsay began to grow a little uneasy, wondering whether he had better lie awake all night revolver in hand; and later, noticing Dorkin taking some quinin, he wondered whether the Australian had a medicine-case containing opium or any sleeping-powders or poison. But evidently Dorkin had not, for, upon a casual inquiry for some Warburg’s tincture, Dorkin swore he had forgotten to bring any. However, to make sure, Dorsay used his coat as a pillow, although Dorkin, roughly solicitous, made him up a bed on the floor on the other side of the tent. 19 After dinner Dorkin became garrulous with whisky. “Rummy, ain’t it,” he said once, “me and yew trying ter kill each other off, and ’ere we are a-sittin’ as chummy as never was!” Dorsay agreed dryly that it was, and became astonished when shortly afterward Dorkin relapsed into a semi-maudlin state, insisting upon telling a sentimental story about his old mother who was waiting in Sydney for her darling son to return. “That’s wot mide me do it!” he wailed. “I’m as tender-’earted as a kiddie, I am, Wouldn’t ’urt a fly, gorlumme.” Dorsay grew suspicious. He pretended to doze off, although he had great difficulty in not doing so, for he badly needed a sleep. For half.an hour Dorkin rambled on— “Vew awike? Ain’t sleeping, are yer?” At last he put out the candle and sank back with a prodigious sigh. Faintly conscious that a drum up in the village was beating, Dorsay started awake at the creak of the camp-bed. After a slight interval came another creak. But Dorsay noticed that the regular breathing, as of a sleeper, ceased at each creak. As he felt for his gun he caught the faintest gleam from the tent-flap of light on steel. Holding the gun in one hand, he rose in one motion, dragging the blankets with him, and leaped straight upon the head of the bed, pinioning the man’s arm and smother- ing his head, from which came an oath, “Tf you struggle, I’ll put a hole through you,” warned Dorsay. “T ain’t doin’ nothin’,” came the muffled voice. “Wot’s the matter wiv yer?” Seg HAVING heard the light thud of the revolver on the floor, between the bed and the tent-wall, Dorsay released him, and pressing the muzzle against his middle, ordered him to light a match. “Look ’ere, wot’re yer plying at?” began Dorkin indignantly. “’Ad a nightmare or somefing? Ain’t we chums nah?” For answer Dorsay retrieved his re- volver. ‘This time I keep it until we part,” said he sharply, “‘and you’ll either consent to let me tie you up or you'll sit right there till morning.” Dorkin»swore and blustered, but finally, sneering, said he supposed he might as well. . Dorsay tied him well, and with the two COMMICLOOOKS (E@