Adventure Magazine Cover — page 51: what you’re looking at

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

The Butterfly Hunter their mistrust, especially when they came to understand that his intentions were not hostile. One thing he feared—that they might mistake him for one of Thusby’s policemen. To reassure them on that point he took up his butterfly net and pursued and captured a stray butterfly. Then he sat down and smoked in the shade, working with his field specimen case that they might see his purpose in being there held no menace for them. Presently a brown man stepped out of the jungle. He was naked except for a breech-clout of some poor cotton stuff which he had probably obtained from traders in exchange for dammar. His long, black hair was down his back, held off his face by a band of thin rattan about his forehead. He carried a blow-gun in his hand, and from his hip hung the bamboo case which held its arrows. Wheaton rose and made the peace sign, beckoning the savage toward him. The native was reluctant to approach too closely to Wheaton; but, calling to his fellows, the black urged them to go with him. In a minute Wheaton was surrounded by a dozen or more half-naked men, all armed either with blow-guns or parangs of the Malay type, the blades of the latter being encased between flat strips of wood, and tied. . And Wheaton now observed with some disquiet that the blow-guns all had spear- points lashed to the muzzle-ends—a sign that the natives were out on a war jaunt, and not simply hunting. He smiled upon them. Wheaton tried them with a few words of Malay, but they gave him no heed. If they understood, they pretended that they could not. They crowded about him, examining his gear, and thinking that his specimens of butterflies were some kind of charms. They handled his stuff like curi- ous children, gabbling among themselves and refusing to meet Wheaton’s eves when he looked at them. This, he knew, was not good. But he continued to smile at them. One of*the bolder ones reached forward and fingered the black ribbon-fob which stuck from his trouser watch-pocket. The filigreed and gem-shot fraternity insignia attracted him mightily. With such a charm he felt that he would be safe from the spear of any enemy, and from the bullets of the white man. He 45 snatched it away and ran into the jungle. Wheaton did not move. He knew that he was in great danger, and that this was no time to make any protest. He smiled upon the others about him; and, embold- ened by the success of the fob thief, another mative grabbed the butterfly net and made off with it. Wheaton now stepped forward into the ring of natives. He wanted to get clear of them in such a way that none would be behind yet he did not dare walk backward, for that would prove to the natives that he was afraid. He held his hands before him, to push them gently out of his way, and they fell back—then a tangle of rattan vines was thrown over his head from the rear, and he found himself enmeshed. Before he had a chance to try to get loose from the rattans he was seized from behind, thrown down and bound. The natives yelled wildly at having thus captured him, and dozens of others came running out of the jungle. And now this fierce and fren- zied host danced howling around Wheaton, fighting among themselves over his equip- ment. This uproar went on for a few minutes, and then the savages suddenly fell silent. There came to Wheaton’s ears the distant report of a revolver, dull and heavy, for the jungle muffled the sound. But Whea- ton thought it could not be far away. Some of the black men made off in the direction of the shot. The others talked among themselves, and Wheaton could see that they shifted their dart-cases behind them, while others with the parangs shoved them forward so the. weapons should be ready to their hands. Now there came several shots, and the distant shouts of natives. Then a scat- tered fusillade, as if several men were firing. Wheaton divined that Thusby’s men—the four he had said were out for Asama, the head-hunter—had been at- tacked by a strong force, and were de- fending themselves. 3 Of all the lot who had set upon Wheaton, but four natives now remained. He un- derstood that they had been left to guard him, for they squatted around, listening to the sounds of distant battle and talking among themselves. The sounds of firing went on for fifteen minutes or more, and then there was a lull. Wheaton lay on his back in the blinding CORDICLOO S (C@