Adventure Magazine Cover, October 10, 1921 — page 136: what you’re looking at

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

126 flesh. You lived a life of deceit. You became tools of Ha-ne-go-ate-geh. “Great was your fall, and great will be your punishment therefor. You will be torn up, root and branch. You will be banished from your villages and exiled to a strange country. Your warriors will die under the tomahawk, your children will be reared by your enemies. You will perish, O Keepers of the Trail! Your end is Cowering under the whip-lashes of his words, the Keepers hurried by the chapel, and ran us inside the stockade. In the doorway they paused to await the coming of Murray. He arrived presently, with Marjory hanging unwillingly on his arm. ‘“‘The prisoners?” he rasped in answer to the question of our guards. ‘Take them to the cellar. Look to their security if you value your lives.” An echo of distant shouts reached our ears as we stood there, and across the posts of the stockade we saw the Keepers streaming from the Evil Wood and at their ° heels certain darting, quick-moving figures that we knew must be the warriors of the Eight Clans. “Tt is time to bring our women and children inside the stockade,” proposed one of the Cahnuagas. 7 Murray shook his head. ‘We have not room nor food to spare,” he refused with iron determination. Discontent showed in the faces of the Keepers, for even these fiends knew the instinct of domestic affection; but Murray cut off attempts at protestation. “See,” he said, as the sound of firing came from the southward, “we are sur- rounded. We are ignorant of the strength of the Iroquois. It may be all we can do to defend ourselves. Women and children would be so many inconveniences to us.” And whilst a squad of savages conducted us to our prison the rest manned the firing- platforms around the stockade and pre- pared to cover the retreat of the Keepers, who were falling back rapidly before the hard-driving attacks of the Iroquois. I sought for a word with Marjory as we entered the door, but Murray deliberately strode between us. All I gained” was a glance from her eyes that bade me be strong and confident. And I needed all the strength and confidence I could obtain during that dreadful afternoon and night Adventure in the cellar, with the shouts of the oppos- ing sides and the discharges of their mus- kets the sole tidings to reach us of what went on above. Ta-wan-ne-ars sat with his back to a wall, his eyes fixed on vacancy, his lips murmuring at intervals Ga-ha-no’s name. I tried to interest him in what went on without success. He looked at me, and turned his eyes away. In desperation I struggled with two of our eight surviving comrades to untie our bonds, and after hours of trial we suc- ceeded and released the others. This per- mitted me to pay attention to those who had been injured. One had a broken shoulder, the result of a blow from a war- club the night we were captured. One had been partially scalped at the stake, and three had been hacked and cut in the pre- liminary stages of torture. WE SLEPT little that night, for we were very cold and we had no food. But in the morning the Keepers thrust a pan of corn-mush within the door and we ate it to the last kernel. I forced a portion upon Ta-wan-ne-ars, feed- ing him with a stick we found on the floor. After that we slept for several hours, and then a lanthorn gleamed on the stairs arid Murray stepped into our midst, an immaculate periwig on his head, his linen spotless, his brown cloth suit as fresh as if direct from the tailor’s hands. He set the lanthorn on the dirt floor and stood beside it. “A good morrow to you, Master Or- merod,” he began. “I have come to hold counsel with you.” “Tis more than kind,” I observed sar- castically. “Nay, ‘tis no more than a proposition of business,” he returned coolly. ‘Look you, my friend, we each of us have that which the other wants. In such a case sensible men come to terms.”’ “Tf I remember rightly you were speak- ing of terms only yesterday,” I said dryly. “True, and naturally I was not then disposed to yield you much.” “T would not trust you now on any terms,” I said flatly. “Tut, tut, sir. Is that language for one gentleman to employ to another?” “You are not a gentleman, sir; you are——” DOOLK C@