Adventure, January 20, 1922 — page 70: what you’re looking at

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

68 Adventure | a! dragged down until they hung level with the woman’s shoulders. The Frenchman stood, as he had been surprized by Nell’s cry, with his knife drawn, and the pleasant task he had been interrupted in was evident by the cruel tracery he had sliced upon the woman’s breasts. The woman was speaking to her fellow sufferer in low, intense tones, and though her eyes were bright with agony her words seemed to be for the encouragement of the man. He, from his own supreme torment, gazed upon her sufferings with wavering resolution. As Davies stepped forward and seized L’Escuyler’s arm the Indian uttered a howl in Spanish. “Zere!” exclaimed the Frenchman, shak- ing loose from Davies. ‘‘Ze peeg he speak at last! Now we shall hear somesing, yes?”’ “You'll hear something, yes!” snarled Davies, worked up to a pitch of murderous anger’ by the scene. ‘Nell! Cast those two loose and see what you can do for ’em. L’Escuyler, draw, ye foul swine! I ordered no cruelties, an’ ye disobeyed me! Draw, or [’ll split ye as ye stand.” “Ah, I disobeyed!” sneered the French- man, whipping out his cutlas readily. “‘Zat ees so, by gar! Eet is not good zat a pirate - should obey a ma’m’selle in culottes, no! I keel you now, Ed Davies, an’ zere shall be no more softness in ze beezness.”’ Without warning he hurled himself upon Davies with cutlas at point. Davies was less of a fencer than the Frenchman, but not a whit less sturdy as a cutlas fighter; and in the matter of ferocity, once aroused, he kad few equals, no superiors. He avoided the dangerous attack with the point by risking his left arm. ‘The Frenchman’s steel passed through his loose sleeve, ripping away the stuff and cutting Davies’ forearm to the bone, slipping out under his armpit. Then before L’Escuyler could recover Davies whirled his own cutlas in a smashing overhand down-cut which the Frenchman in turn risked his left hand to guard while his own weapon was encum- bered. ) Down whistled the blade, encountered the raised wrist with a lopping thud, and the hand dropped. “Sang d’Dieul’ screamed L’Escuyler, leaping back and showering red drops around. “I have ze ’eart of you!” He came back with his point again, and this time Davies saw he could never turn it aside in time. Putting all-upon the chance, he relied on his long arm and greater height to meet the deadly attack. As the sword of L’Escuyler leaped at his throat, he straightened arm and steel in a lightning dart, leaned slightly aside, and felt the steel slip into the flesh of his breast. Then a great weight fell upon his sword ‘arm; blood spurted along his blade and | reddened his hand, and L’Escuyler fell at his feet, transfixed through the lungs, and the cutlas broke off_under his weight. The stricken man coughed chokingly and cast a look of bitter hatred upward at Davies as he bent over him. “You shall see ze gold now, but you shall nevaire touch heem!’’ he gasped. “Ze devils of forest an’ ze lake shall twist ze in- sides of you, ze savage shall have ze woman of you, an’ ze soul of you shall Ai With his curse half-uttered the French- man died, and one turbulent factor passed out of the band. The witches’ caldron had started to boil; the scum was rising. “Nell, come bind up these scratches,” rasped Davies, panting and dry of throat. “What ha’ ye learned o’ these Indians?” “The woman’s a queer sort 0’ woman. She likes not to talk!’ quoth Nell, swiftly dressing the wounds in Davies’ chest and arm with soft moss plucked from the garden. ‘But the man says he was servant to L’Es- cuyler long ago; now he is the servant to the Don who lived here when we came. L’Escuyler tortured him and his wife to make them tell where that gold ye seek vanished to, for the Indian vanished too, that day, and should have knowledge.” “H’m! Says he so?” grunted Davies, peering keenly into the Indian’s face. ‘ me, but I believe I recall ’s face. Look to them, Nell. Make ’em follow us through cajolery. They mayhap will prove of service. I’ll take one more look seaward; then we march.”’ XXVIII 1Cyl AS > anh pr 1 NELL secured the doglike devotion mea of the two Indians-not by cajolery so much as through sheer gratitude. With all a woman’s tenderness, plus a man’s steadiness, plus again the cold-blooded utility of the hardened campaigner, she had dressed their cruel hurts and revived them so that they had gladly marched with the column into the forest when Davies, after a . COmiclboooks (C@