Adventure Magazine Cover, October 1911 — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

rap SS HE’S a story-writer, that’s what i she is! Was a schoolma’am in eh a New Hampshire town—li- b> field, I think she said it was, wherever that is. Never away from home before until she took this trip to the Philip- pines. Came out the Suez way.” That settled it. We knew Presho would solve the mystery before we tied up in Jolo. Presho was a geologist—is, I should say, because he is still at it in South Africa some- where if he hasn’t fallen down a volcano by this time. So Presho, being a geologist, _bald-headed, a bachelor and of the inquiring turn of mind necessary to a scientist, was the only one likely to learn why Miss Foote was in the Philippines, or rather in the Celebes Sea in a Singapore steamer, without escort. So that was it! Story-writer hey? We snuggled comfortably into our grass deck- chairs and looked at the stars and moonlit Celebes, or the particular part of it our stumpy little steamer was in, some seven degrees or so above the equator, where it gets hot and stays hot. We were on our way to Jolo, the capital of the Americanized Sultan of Sulu, from Singapore by way of Borneo ports and up the Macassar strait. Now people who are jamming around in the Celebes Sea are not doing it for the fun of the thing; the personally conducted tours don’t do any touring there and that’s why we wondered what Miss Foote’s motives were for being in a vile Singapore boat. Not that we thought Miss Foote was the A BIT OF LOCAL COLOR BY FREDERICK Z4jDINAND MOORE ey ’ fi wee ‘ 1 20 7 r~ - ' personally conducted sort of tourist—we knew .she wasn’t, because the unmarried among us had volunteered for the job all the way from Singapore—in fact, from the time she got out of her ’rickshaw on the jetty. We—the smoking contingent down aft under the awning that night—were all there because we had to be. Presho wanted to get some data on volcanic formations in that part of the world and had theories about the Philippine Islands being either the tops of mountains that had sunk into the sea in ages gone, or the tops of mountains that had been pushing themselves up out of the ocean in the same past ages. He could tell us about sea-shells and skeletons of fishes being found on the tops of mountains there, and such things, and we argued with him about them, more to forget the heat and canned butter than to help elucidate scientific puzzles. That’s enough about Presho, except that he was a handsome chap in white duck, had tried to flirt with Miss Foote all the way from Singapore, to our disgust, and trimmed his mustaches in a way that made you think he was German when you knew all the time he was English. Lieutenant Halsey was an American army officer stationed in Jolo and could tell some blood-curdling tales about Moros running amuck with long knives. He was bringing his wife back from Paris. Denhard was a coconut-planter in Min- danao, returning from Singapore, where he had closed a coconut deal. He was red- 964 CO MICLOOKS S|