Adventure Magazine Cover, October 1911 — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

972 The smile faded from Tom’s face, which went very white as he sprang to the win- dow and looked out. “It’s the head of the police,” he said. ‘‘They’re after the only father I’ve ever known—General Torre- negro.” For a moment there was a sympathetic hush. Then Jack offered what he hoped might be a crumb of consolation. ‘‘ Maybe not,” he said. ‘If they were going after the old General, they’d hardly take those balks of timber with them, would they?” “Yes. Of course they would. Our doors are very strong.” . The soldiers and their ornate leader now had passed out of sight. The Torrenegro house, being on the same side of the plaza as that from which the four men were look- ing, could not be seen without leaning out of the windows, and that was prevented by the bars. For a moment they waited, hop- ing against hope that the destination of the hated police official was not the old gen- eral’s house. Then, seeing their own con- cern reflected on the faces of those who stood in the street, they knew that what they feared was coming to pass. Then fol- lowed the resounding bang of timber against heavy planks. Already the battering-rams were at work. <A few scattering shots snapped here and there. ‘The crash of a volley answered them. ““My mother’s still in the country, thank heaven!” cried Tom. ‘“Helen’s in the house, though, and when I think of her being at the mercy of that beast Borja—”’ ‘At the mercy of Borja!” exclaimed Jack. ‘“How at his mercy? ‘They can’t take Helen—she’s done nothing.” “What of it? Of course they’ll take her. Borja will see to that. He’s crazy about her—always has been. Hang it all, I can’t stay here! I must do something!”’ He would have run from the room, but Mr. Grey, with kindly force, stopped him. ‘“‘Don’ be foolish, lad,’”’? he said. “It would do no good to any one fo’ you to run out theah an’ be gathahed in by the police. Is theah no back way outah these houses? No path by which a man can get from one to anothah? Use youah haid! Think!”’ ‘“These houses are set right on the edge of the little level plateau that holds this part of the city,” replied Tom sadly. “‘From the rear windows is a clear drop of nearly three hundred feet.” ‘““That’s true,’’? admitted Jack, rising, his Adventure face set and determined. “Yet I think I know of a path that may serve. Come and see.” He left the room, the others following him, and went to the rear of the house, pick- ing up a long coil of light line on the way. The back wall was pierced not only by win- dows, but bya door, through which merchan- dise could be hoisted from the lower level. Some six feet below this door, a ledge, three inches in width, ran along behind the entire row of houses. ‘““D’you mean to say you're going to try and crawl along that?’ demanded Tom. “Well, I think not! If any one makes a stab at that stunt, it’ll be me. It’s my place to, and a “Tom, listen!” interrupted Jack. *““'There’s no time to talk. You’re twice as big as I, and weigh any number of pounds more. SBesides, I’m used to mountain climbing, and you’re not. I have a chance of succeeding—you wouldn’t have.” ‘‘He’s right, lad,” agreed old Mr. Grey. ‘Heaven knows I’d not let him go if theah was any othah way! But if yo’ want tuh help youah sistah an’ the ol’ Gene’al, do as he says, an’ do it quick! Those doahs won’ las’ fo’evah.”’ Very reluctantly Tom yielded. “All right,”’ he said shortly. ‘‘Is there nothing I can do?” “Yes,” replied Jack. and pay out as I go.” “But that little cord won’t hold you, if you fall.” “T know it. It isn’t intended to. Your house is the fourth from here, isn’t it? The one where that heavy line, rove through a block, hangs down.” “Yes. It’s used to hoist vegetables and stuff from below.”’ “Right! So long.” ‘“‘So long, son,” responded old Mr. Grey. “Good luck! Don’t yo’ get stahtled if yo’ heah a shot. It’ll be me who fiahs.”’ With a wave of his hand to show that he understood, Jack dropped over the door- sill, lowering himself cautiously until he felt the ledge under his feet. ‘Then, inch by inch, he began his perilous journey toward the house of General Torrenegro. It was terribly risky work. Flattened as much as possible against the masonry, his balance was most delicately adjusted. Any- thing—a crumbling bit of mortar, or even a sudden puff of the gentle breeze that was “Take that coil CO MICLOOOKS CO